


Milk and Honey

by Inactive_Account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Implied Mpreg, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Porn With Plot, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest, Underage - Adult/Minor, Underage - Minor/Minor, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inactive_Account/pseuds/Inactive_Account
Summary: They were too young to understand the depths of 'love' Shiro bestowed upon them.Keith never understood the grooming or the abuse, at least not until the years past, but he did understand the living hell that each one of them was desperate to escape. There appeared to be no way out. Shiro routinely took his pleasure from their bodies, but they held hope the abuse would end and life could begin. They would endure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1 - 8 contain depictions of graphic rape.
> 
> Chapters 9 - 12 do not contain rape.

Keith was beautiful.

He lay across the sofa barely dressed; the loose shorts exposed hairless legs, with soft and unblemished skin, while his white t-shirt was low enough on the shoulder to reveal one of those tempting nipples upon his chest. It was too easy to let his eyes roam. Shiro always fought the urge when Keith was awake; the risk was never worth the reward, especially when it would be so easy for another adult to see how his eyes lingered or pupils dilated.

The black hair was mussed and tangled, while plump lips were speckled with a hint of drool, and Keith would fidget and roll in his sleep in an agonising manner. Tiny hands rested on Shiro’s thigh, where they would curl and clench and tease, and Shiro grew hard beneath the fabric of his trousers. It was a ‘tickly’ feeling, as he heard the boys tell one another. Each time those fingers innocently traced patterns upon his inner thigh, oblivious to how inappropriate the touch was to an outsider, he grew more and more erect.

Keith breathed low and soft, his eyelids moving as he dreamed. Shiro adjusted his length and fidgeted where he sat, unable to stand how flushed those cheeks looked or the meaning he projected upon them, and – as he looked to the clock – he realised it was well past Keith’s bedtime. He looked over the back of the sofa; the open archway between lounge and hall overlooked a spiralling staircase, which led to the upstairs bedrooms.

No one was there.

The lights were all off, aside from the flickering images from the television before him, and there wasn’t so much as a squeak from Pidge or Lance’s bedrooms. The two were heavy sleepers, unlikely to be awake for some hours, and Keith looked virtually passed out upon his lap, even as he head moved ever closer to his crotch. Shiro took a chance. He gently took the remote from the folds of the sofa and changed the channel to a pre-set DVD.

Pidge only ever used her computer for films. Lance and Keith could not work the system to change the channel to the DVD player. He was safe to keep his ‘special’ films stored there ready to consume at night, where the ultra HD image made them all the more real, and he set the volume on low to take advantage of the stereo sound and multiple speakers. The pre-recorded images of Lance flashed onto screen, something recorded from a few weeks previous after months of grooming and a great deal of bribery. Shiro stirred.

“Fuck,” groaned Shiro.

The light from the television cast aesthetic shadows over Keith; on the screen Lance jerked his length with two fingers buried deep inside, while Shiro – from behind the camera – urged the teenager onward, as words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ poured from his mouth. Lance was achingly hard, with blown eyes staring down the lens as he licked his lips, and he moved in a delicious rhythm that soon had Shiro leaking pre-come. He was so aroused it hurt. The sounds of Lance moaning like a bitch in heat only added to his pain.

Shiro gently placed a hand on Keith’s head. The soft hair felt good under the rough fingers of his organic arm, as he stroked lines through the boy’s hair and massaged his scalp, and – as he bit his lip to hold back a cry – his cybernetic hand worked at his zipper. Shiro threw back his head and sighed in relief, as his erection was freed from its prison. He looked down to his shaft. It was a good length, but too wide for a child Keith’s size to properly hold . . .

“Shit, I – I can’t do this . . .”

The tip was weeping pre-come profusely, in almost a constant stream, while the head was an angry red that was slick with the transparent liquid. He fought the urge to touch the angry shaft, even as he saw the thick under-vein throb in protest, and he gripped a little tighter in Keith’s hair to ground himself. He had already crossed several lines. It was too far and too much; Keith was innocent to all of this, plus there was no way he could consent, and these memories would last him well into adulthood and beyond. It was wrong.

He looked to the television screen. Lance was now on all fours, as he pumped three fingers into his hole, and a lubricated vibrator waited beside him on the bed, where he looked with fearful eyes to its size. They knew it was an unfounded fear, as Lance had taken many different dildos in the past, but the teenager always wore the same expression, even as he looked over his shoulder and with water-filled eyes to the camera lens.

“What’s Lance doing?” Keith mumbled.

“ _Fuck_ ,” cursed Shiro.

He fumbled with the remote, as he turned off the homemade movie. Keith was already cross-legged with a tiny fist rubbing at his sleepy eyes, which only added to Shiro’s arousal and caused his length to bob, and Keith – with grey-blue eyes – looked to Shiro and blinked a few times on sight of his erection. Those eyes soon widened, as his mouth fell open. Shiro pulled back into the crook of the sofa arm; he fought the urge to cover up, as he didn’t want Keith to know something was wrong, even as he fell sick to his stomach.

“What happened to your pee-pee?” Keith asked.

Shiro closed his eyes and tilted back his head. He screwed them shut until he saw stars, desperate to fight back his arousal and unable to know how to proceed, but – as he tried to ignore the problem – a small hand came out and encircled his length. Shiro cried out and jerked his erection into the touch, as his eyes widened and voice cried out. It surprised Keith. The little boy jumped back and pulled his hand away, so that Shiro swore in response.

He reached out and pulled Keith up beside him, so that they were side-by-side and Keith’s head was dangerously close to the head of his penis. Keith furrowed his brow and reached out again, clearly having forgotten everything about ‘no-no places’ and ‘bad touch’ in lieu of his childish curiosity, and he patted it upon the slit almost as if it were a snake or a pet. Shiro bit his fist to hold back a long moan, especially when Keith pulled back his hand and stared at the pre-come that stained his palm with a look of disgust.

“It’s – ah – because I’m happy,” said Shiro.

“It’s leaking,” replied Keith.

“It does that when it’s _really_ happy.” Shiro licked his lips. “If it gets to be _super_ happy, it’ll squirt milk . . . just like you like to drink. It’s something only grown-ups can do. It’s not icky and it’s not pee, but it’s just . . . a kind of milk. It’s good. You’ll like it.”

“So that’s what Lance was doing on the film? Making milk?”

“Lance is old enough to make milk now, yeah. I – I made a special film with him, because seeing him happy makes _me_ happy, and seeing him make milk helps me to make milk. You – You might be t-too young to do that yet, so your pee-pee will stay soft, but you can make grown-ups feel good . . . it has to be our secret, though. It has to be secret.”

Keith reached out again. This time he put his hand around the girth, where he moved it up and down as if stroking the fur of a soft animal, and pursed his lips with a curious expression when Shiro jerked into his hand and tossed his head side to side. He was closer than he would have liked, while all thoughts about how wrong it was went out of his head, and he could only think about how fucking hot those cheeks would look hollowed out around his cock, as come dripped out from the corners of his mouth. Keith asked in a soft voice:

“Why does it have to be secret?”

“Other – Other adults will take you away from me.” Shiro clawed at the cushions. “You want us to be a family, don’t you? If you tell anyone, they’ll think you’re bad and they’ll take you away, and I’ll never get to see you again. Pidge and Lance will be sad. They’ll be sad because you did a bad thing by telling people and you’ll have to be punished.”

“Is that why Lance kept it secret, too? I don’t want to get in trouble. If it’s bad to make you feel good, does that mean I shouldn’t do this? I don’t want to do bad things. You look like you’re in pain. You keep making loud noises. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“People just don’t want us to be happy, so they say it’s bad.”

“But it’s not really bad?”

There was a creak from the stairs. Shiro looked over the back of the sofa to see Lance looked between the bars of the railing, where he would see Shiro with head thrown back and moaning in ecstasy, but he would be unable to see Keith. He looked to Lance and blew him a kiss, but Lance paled and ran back up the stairs. Shiro laughed and adjusted Keith’s hands so both were holding him and pumping him how he liked, with the thumb dipping into the slit on every upward pull. He leaked profusely and hissed out:

“It’s good. It’s really fucking good.”

“And it’s not hurting you?”

“No, but use your mouth. That makes it better. Kiss it.”

Keith looked up in confusion. Shiro fought the desperate desire to force him, knowing it would discourage or even stop all future repeats, and instead whispered ‘please’, as he knew that Keith’s desperate need to please him would defeat his doubts. The young boy leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to the tip, where he didn’t so much as open his lips but the warm and soft touch caused his tip to leak further, as Shiro shuddered all over.

“Maybe I should ask Lance,” murmured Shiro.

“What? No! I – I can do better,” pleaded Keith. “How do I do it?”

“Put your mouth around it.” Shiro gently guided his head down. “You need to suck it like a lollipop, but don’t use your teeth. It’ll hurt me, if you use your teeth. Suck it. No teeth. Understand? Move your tongue about, too, lick the slit. Taste my come.”

“So I just have to suck it and don’t bite it? I can do that!”

“Prove it, baby. Make me feel good.”

Shiro weaved his fingers into Keith’s hair, as he pulled him down. The young boy paused just above his dick, as his eyes widened and he looked to Shiro with watery eyes, but – the second a ‘good boy’ was whispered – he smiled and took the head into his mouth. He was hardly an expert, nowhere near as good as an adult, but he knew that he would improve with time and practise. Keith flicked his tongue rapidly back and forth, nothing particularly seductive or erotic, but this was _Keith_ that sucked at his member. It was _forbidden_.

Keith struggled to take much of him within his mouth; he lacked a gag reflex, so that Shiro could only groan when those muscles of his mouth clenched around him, and it felt so hot and wet and silky smooth deep within Keith. He thrust up and gripped tight onto Keith’s hair, until the head of his member hit the back of his throat. Keith pulled faces at the taste of pre-come that wept onto his tongue. Teeth scraped a little painfully upon his foreskin.

The little glimpses of pain grounded Shiro. It stopped him from coming too soon, as he whispered words of encouragement and broke into a sweat, and – as his eyes rolled back and clothes clung to his skin – his mouth ran dry and his moans became constant. He reached down to fondle his testicles, even he held tighter into black hair until Keith cried out and pulled away. Those plump and swollen lips glistened with pre-come, as he looked up with watering eyes and flushed cheeks. Keith rubbed at his jaw and cheeks.

“My jaw really hurts,” said Keith with a sniff.

“Keep going, babe,” ordered Shiro. “God, you’re such a come-slut.”

Shiro forced his head back down. It felt amazing, with all the imperfections making it so much better, and – as Keith struggled to breathe and cried out – he relished in how those tiny fists pounded at his thighs and sobbed loud enough to hurt his ears. The pleasure built and built, until he screamed his throat hoarse, and pulled Keith down halfway to the root. He came long and hard. His vision went white, while his toes curled and back arched. The muscles in his legs seized up. He struggled to breathe. It was heaven.

He let go of Keith’s head, as his body went limp. It took a few minutes to recover from his orgasm, even as the afterglow brought a warm smile to his face, and he looked down to see Keith crying quietly cross-legged beside him. There were ropes of come dripping from his mouth and one over his eyes and cheek. He looked like he swallowed most of it, but it evidently stung his eyes and his hands were still wet with pre-come.

“It stings my eyes,” sobbed Keith. “I don’t like it.”

Shiro pulled Keith against him, holding the small boy tight, while he ran his hands up and down over his body, even going so far as to squeeze his firm buttocks. Keith struggled to pull away at the sensation of being groped. It brought a stab of guilt into Shiro’s chest, as he saw the come over his brother’s eye and saw his limp cock between them. He sighed and wiped away the streaks of come, while he trailed kisses over his head and hair. Keith nuzzled against him, mumbling ‘don’t like it’ over and over, until he quietened down.

“Why don’t we go make you a big ice cream sundae?” Shiro chirped.

Keith sniffed and rubbed his eyes with a smile.

“O-Okay,” said Keith. “Thanks, Shiro.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keith sobbed.

It kept Lance awake; he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, where he counted the glow-in-the-dark stars and looked into the eyes of his blue lion poster, and – in the darkness – he could pretend he was still in the Holt family home. He bit his lip. There was a taste of iron, as blood fled into his mouth, but it grounded him and took him away from memories of nights where sleep came naturally and without fear. Lance sighed.

There was a creak outside the door. He pulled the sheets up to his chin, before he rolled onto his side and scrunched his eyes shut tight, and – as his heart pounded in his chest – he stopped breathing entirely while the sound paused outside the door. The minute lasted an eternity, until the footsteps moved onward and he could finally breathe. He let out a shuddered breath and loosened his grip on the sheets, while he looked across the bedroom to the second twin bed. Keith continued to sob, while he sat curled up against the wall.

The young boy sat in just shorts and a t-shirt, with legs pulled up to his chest. A small head rested upon small knees, while arms wrapped around his lowers limbs with a tight hold, and Lance winced to remember when he was once that same boy. Keith’s cheeks were red, while his lips were plump and swollen, and there was still a speck of come white upon his black hair, which would no doubt knot and tangle by the morning. Lance shrugged.

“You got to get to sleep,” whispered Lance.

Keith sniffed and wiped his nose upon his arm. The sheets on the bed were a tangled mess, from where he tossed and turned in his initial attempts to sleep, and there were shards of birthday cards upon the floor from his earlier art project. Lance smiled to think how his greatest rival and greatest friend enjoyed cutting shapes from the ‘Happy Thirteenth’ cards, especially when Pidge helped him glue them into intricate collages.

The art project now lay discarded, while a stack of Lance’s cards lay unused. There was still a scent of candy and popcorn in the air, while Lance was sure he could still feel a few stray kernels at his toes, and glitter littered the floor along with cake crumbs. It was a birthday unlike anything at the Holt household or at his family home, but – for a small moment during his party – he was safe. He looked over to Keith and knew the reason. Lance scratched at brown hair and spun around on his bed, and dropped feet to the itchy carpet beneath.

“Do you want a hug?” Lance asked.

Lance clenched his fists when Keith stayed silent. He threw back his head and counted to five, before he dropped his head and heaved a long sigh, and – as he looked back to Keith – he saw those grey-blue eyes looking over to him with a pleading expression. Lance glanced to the door, as his stomach rolled and acid burnt the back of his throat. He carefully stepped over to Keith, avoiding the squeaky floorboards as he went, before he sat next to his foster brother and saw how he flinched as the mattress dipped. Keith whimpered.

They sat in relative silence, until Lance draped an arm around Keith. The younger boy tensed, his muscles hard and body stiff, and Lance refrained from any further movement, as he let Keith grow used to an affectionate touch. A few minutes later, Keith leaned against him and he was able to cuddle the smaller boy. Lance half-remembered a few lines of a Spanish song, along with nursery rhymes loved by Pidge, but instead he asked in a quiet voice:

“It was just one time, right?”

“I didn’t like it,” muttered Keith. “It was icky.”

“Yeah, but it must mean he likes you best.” Lance’s hand gripped a little too tight. “He never let me get away with just that . . . I have to put on a show, you know? It feels good sometimes, but sometimes I just want it to stop because it hurts. It didn’t hurt when you blew him, right? I mean it just . . . it just _sucks_. You’re his favourite, even now!”

“I don’t _want_ to be his favourite if I have to suck his pee-pee.”

“That’s what _makes_ you his favourite, though. Shiro was always my hero; I was _so_ happy when we got to live with him, but then bad things happened and he started recording them, and I don’t know . . . it’s like I want to love him and make him proud, but -?”

Lance shuddered and looked to the door. He scrunched closed his eyes and swallowed hard . . . _‘I’m tired, Shiro, I want to sleep’, “It’ll only be a few minutes, it’ll feel good”, ‘I don’t want to feel good, I just want to sleep’ . . ._ the door remained closed, but he could hear it creak open regardless of the reality, just as he felt the covers lift and someone slide in beside him. It never went ‘too far’, at least not according to Shiro, but there was always something inside him and he always knew to be ever prepared and ever loose. Lance whispered:

“If you just let him, it hurts a lot less.”

“He hurts you?” Keith mumbled.

“I mean sometimes, yeah.” Lance furrowed his brow. “He sometimes does it to make me feel good, though, even when I don’t want it, and . . . it does feel good. Like, my heart hurts and I cry, but I come pretty hard and I end up with an awesome after-glow.”

“I – I don’t know what those words mean,” said Keith. “I just know I didn’t like it! I didn’t get the funny feeling that Shiro talked about after, and I didn’t like not being able to breathe. I don’t like it! I don’t want to be his favourite. Why can’t you make him feel good? You like it! It’s not fair. It’s not fair and I don’t want it! I want it to go away.”

“It never goes away. Even if it did, you’d always remember.”

“I want to forget. I want to forget!”

Keith cried harder. Lance looked to the door with wide eyes, before he shushed the young boy and guided him to lie down upon the sheets, and – as Keith continued to cry and kick – a dark panic overtook him. Keith was strong, so each kick bruised at his chest. It would only be time before they woke Pidge or before Shiro came to see about the fuss, and so Lance jumped off the bed to find his ‘treasure chest’ left underneath his bed. There were a few fumbled attempts to find what he sought, before his hands fell upon a small tube.

He sprinted back on the tips of his toes, before he threw himself into the bed. He curled up beside Keith and pulled the sheets about their necks; the tube of lubrication was cool to the touch, while the scent of cherry lingered and the outside remained sticky, and Keith quietened down to look at it with a few sniffs. It was good to be underneath the sheets, especially when Keith was so warm and soft against him, nothing like the firm muscles of Shiro.

Keith sobbed until his eyes turned red. Lance could stand it no longer; he gently removed the shirt from the younger boy, before he worked down his shorts in turn, and – ever unaware of the intentions of others – Keith appeared to assume it nothing more than a need to get changed for the night. The small member was almost cute and totally unassuming, which reminded Lance of himself at that age, and he touched upon the smooth skin of the silky abdomen with light presses of his fingertips. Lance asked with a gasp:

“Look, why don’t I make you feel good?”

There was only silence in reply. Lance rolled his eyes; he thought back to the things Shiro did to him, as well as the videos Shiro made him watch, and stroked light patterns along the sides of the torso below him. It felt nice to finally take control and be in charge. Lance knew where every touch would go and how every one would feel, and he smiled with his thumbs drifted over small and flat nipples. Keith shuddered and tried to push him away.

“No. I don’t like it,” spat Keith.

“Yeah, you do.” Lance sighed. “I like it, so you have to like it.”

He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. It was strange to be on the giving end; the little nub felt cool and smooth at first, until he suckled and gently nipped at it, and soon it was hard and wrinkled around the areola and warm. Keith began to push at Lance’s head, even as he mewled and kicked his legs against the sheets, and Lance’s other hand came up to flick and massage the other nipple with a curious interest. He enjoyed how Keith moaned.

It made him proud to make another ‘happy’, but better to not be the one forced to feel something against his will, and – as so many conflicting feelings crossed his mind – he just knew he wanted Keith to stop crying and to smile. He wanted him to feel good, even if this was the only way he knew how to make that happen. It was wrong. It had to be wrong as Lance remembered crying himself to sleep so many times, but then it couldn’t be wrong to make someone else feel good, could it? He continued to suckle and lick.

“D-Don’t wanna,” cried Keith.

Keith pushed once more at his head, but this time he pulled his hair. Lance hissed and pulled away; he instinctively slapped Keith and looked down in horror to see those eyes look back wide and with fear, as the cheek reddened and swelled and bruised from the blow. He reached out to stroke the cheek, only for Keith to punch at his hand and open his mouth to let out a loud scream, and – as sheer panic overcome him – he threw a hand down over Keith’s mouth to keep him quiet. Lance looked to the door and gasped out:

“I – I’ll make it up to you!”

Lance kept a hand over his mouth. He slowly placed kisses over his stomach, muffling Keith’s cries even as the younger boy clawed at his hand, and then – with great expertise – swallowed the limp member to the hilt. It was much easier than with Shiro; it hardly filled his mouth and he was able to lick it and suckle it with no aggravation to his gag reflex, and his free hand was able to tickle at those tight testicles without issue. Keith bit into his hand.

It was likely a mixture of pleasure and fear, but the pleasure was there. Lance let go of those small balls to fumble around for the lubrication, even as he worked that length to a semi-hard state that had Keith’s hands fisted in his hair, and he uncapped the bottle with a loud crack. It squirted a little without intent. Lance cursed, as he looked past the hairless crotch to the bottle and quickly uncovered Keith’s mouth to catch the dribble of liquid. He knew he would be unable to explain any stains and Shiro was a jealous man, it would be better to keep clean.

“W-What’re you doing?” Keith asked. “I don’t want it.”

Lance pushed apart Keith’s legs. He moved his hand between those two soft cheeks, parting them just enough to place a lubricated finger to that still tight hole, and gently – even as Keith cried out and punched at his head – slid his finger inside. It only made it to the first knuckle; the young boy didn’t know to relax or push back, and it was evident nothing had ever penetrated him before. Lance panicked for a moment. He pulled his mouth away.

“Stop hitting me,” spat Lance. “Fuck!”

“It really hurts.” Keith sobbed and punched his head. “It really, really hurts!”

“Look, Shiro told you this has to be a secret, right?” Lance glared at Keith until the boy nodded, then smiled and shrugged his shoulders at the child. “Right! So you have to be _quiet_ right now, because otherwise Shiro’s going to know what we’re doing. Just – I don’t know – bite into your hand or something. I’m _trying_ to make you feel good. Trust me.”

Lance worked his finger in to the last knuckle; he grew half-hard at the sensations, as Keith’s inner walls clamped down around his invading digit, and he cursed when he felt an actual pulse, as if throbbed in time with the heart. It was his first time feeling someone else. He admired how he could feel every internal ridge, as well as how hot the skin felt, and it was so soft and smooth to the touch, far better than when he touched himself.

Keith continued to cry, as if he didn’t want to feel good. Lance furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, while he remembered how it always felt better to endure Shiro’s attentions when aroused, and how sometimes after – when the pain receded – he would touch himself and finally feel good. It was something he wanted to share. If Keith were going to end up on camera the same way, screaming out his orgasm while Shiro watched, it would be a kindness to teach him how to enjoy it. Still, Lance knew it was wrong. He knew it.

It was too confusing for him to understand. It was wrong and yet he knew no other way to show Keith he was loved, because Shiro was his hero and this was the only way that Shiro ever loved him, when his mouth was over that thick cock or Shiro came over his back while the vibrator was deep inside him. Lance bit his lip again, as he knew the vibrator would be too big for Keith. He wanted him to feel better, but not hurt him. Lance said:

“Okay, I’m going to put it in.”

Keith squirmed. Lance hated to hear him cry, but quickly inserted a second finger. It was so tight that he was sure it’d hurt his cock, but he loved how Keith arched his back and clenched down around him, and Lance – remembering Shiro’s teachings, as well as the first time Shiro fingered him – curled his finger and sought for that familiar spot. It didn’t take long for Keith to get hard, despite his age, and Lance smirked and hoped to make him dry-come.

Lance squirted more lubrication on his fingers. He slid in another finger, but this time Keith cried out loud in pain and his erection wilted, and Lance swore and gagged him once more with an open palm over his mouth. If Shiro heard, he would want to film. No, he would likely want to do things to Lance. The idea nearly wilted Lance’s erection in turn; he hadn’t realised how hard he became with the idea of finally being in control, but Keith was naked beneath him and impaled upon his fingers. The small boy mewled and sobbed.

“Put what in?” Keith asked.

“My dick,” said Lance. “My ‘pee-pee’.”

“But I don’t want –”

Keith cried out in great pain.

Lance added a fourth finger. He withdrew it pretty quick, so he could pull his erection out from his pyjama bottoms, and – as he dripped lubrication over his length, uncaring in his arousal about the mess – he massaged his length. Expert fingers moved in a slow rhythm; each one moving independently like a slow wave, before pulling from base to tip, only to be replaced with his other hand, and he continued to erotic massage until his length dripped pre-come and he hurt under the pressure. Lance quickened his breathing and licked his lips.

He pushed the head of his erection against the hole; it was so hot to the touch and fit him almost like a glove, with the pressure of those two buttocks nice against him, and he could understand why Shiro liked to touch him in those places. There was a relief that Keith was now the favourite, able to take the brunt, but a bone-deep anger that Keith might take from him the only bonding time Lance and Shiro had together. He hated the conflict.

“This’ll hurt,” said Lance. “Just . . . don’t scream.”

Lance pushed in to the hilt. Keith screamed.

Lance swore from the sudden sensations; he completely forgot to cover Keith’s mouth, even as he heard the door open a crack and light stream in from the hallway, and – no longer caring as Shiro stood with camera-phone in hand – he relished in how Keith milked him for all he was worth. He wanted to kiss Keith. He wanted to make all the pain leave. He wanted to know whether those lips were as sweet as honey, just as he wanted to know whether that tongue could feel as good upon his cock as much as apparently upon Shiro’s.

He thrust in hard and deep. There was a heavy sound of balls slapping against buttocks, while he broke out into a heavy sweat, and he struggled to breathe though the absolute pleasure, unable to respond to how Keith clawed at him and struck at him. He leaned down to kiss away the tears, even as Keith wept, and his hole slurped with the mixture of lubrication and a hint of blood. Lance held him down with a spread hand upon his chest.

It was good. It was _too_ fucking good. He wouldn’t last. Lance looked to the door and saw Shiro touching himself, filming them for a later viewing, and a part of Lance felt further turned on by the idea this could be viewed by hundreds . . . thousands . . . _millions_. No one ever paid him attention, not with Keith around, but on those videos so many people would leave nice comments and Shiro would show him with pride. The pleasure built and built, as Lance’s pupils blew wide and his mouth opened into an ‘O’ shape.

He came.

The orgasm was mind-blowing. Lance threw back his head and stared at the plastic stars above, as a little drool escaped his mouth, and his heart raced so fast that he was afraid it might stop, but soon ropes of come shot from his member. The come was finally white after months of being clear, and he could see it leaking from that abused hole. He pulled out, still coming, and shot the rest of his load over a bare stomach. Come pooled in Keith’s belly button. Lance laughed and – as he finally softened – leaned down to suck out the come.

“I hate you,” whispered Keith. “I hate you both.”

Shiro closed the door. The grown man was now out of the room and out of sight, while Lance collapsed down next to Keith and pulled him against his chest, and – even as Keith fell limp and wept in earnest – he cuddled him close and kissed his head repeatedly with whispered words of affection. Keith was no longer hard and he hadn’t come. It brought a stab of pain to Lance’s chest, but he swore he would make Keith come before the night was out.

“I still love you,” said Lance. “I’ll always love you.”

Keith cried himself to sleep.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Come in,” called Shiro.

Pidge swallowed hard. The young girl fiddled with the hem of her nightdress, which came just to mid-thigh, and looked down to see bare toes that gripped and fidgeted with the shag-pile of the carpet underfoot. Her brown hair was cut short, just how Shiro liked. It tickled at her shoulders, one of which was also bare as the nightwear slid down onto her upper arm, and a sudden coldness overcame her even as she blinked away hot tears.

The nightdress was one Shiro liked; it featured a green lion, one from a show that always seemed to play when the three children were forced together, and it was otherwise white with a green trim, rather childlike and a bit too young for her ten years. Pidge practised her smile. It fell a few times into a frown, before she made it stick, and pulled back her shoulders in hopes that the confident pose would still the racing of her heart. The quickened heartbeat hurt within her chest, while tears threatened to rise every time her smile faltered.

“Hello?” Shiro asked from inside. “Anyone there?”

“I’m here! I’m coming,” replied Pidge.

Pidge grabbed for the doorknob. It fumbled under her sweaty palm, as she swore and paused to quietly pray to her parents, and – as she found some mental strength – her hand closed around the knob and managed to pry open the door. The room inside was dark. Pidge stepped within and closed the door with a soft click, as she quickly drew the bolt across, and she sagged her shoulders a little to be within the one room of the house that locked. There was no chance that Lance or Keith would accidentally walk in on them.

The darkness made it hard to see, even with her glasses slipping on her nose. It was impossible to miss Shiro, though. He lay on the thick mattress with only a sheet for modesty; it was draped over his large length, which was already hard and tenting the white fabric, and she was sure that she caught a stain of pre-come slowly spreading out. The bare chest was muscular, as were those thick arms, and it was plenty enough to overpower her.

Pidge shuddered and knew it best to pre-empt any pain. The young girl stepped closer, where she saw that Shiro sat upright with plumped pillows behind his back, and – enclosed within his cybernetic hand – a cell-phone beamed a series of moving lights upon his scarred face. He wore a smile that was all too sweet; Pidge grew faint and wavered where she stood, as memories of her parents’ death and first night in Shiro’s home invaded her mind, and she nearly brought her hands over her privates as the memory of pain felt almost present.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked. “You look distracted.”

“I’m fine,” chirped Pidge. “It’s all fine.”

“Well, why don’t you come sit by me?” Shiro patted the bed beside him. “I can show you a video I took that you might enjoy. I need a hand, too, and you’ve always been the absolute best at that. You wouldn’t mind, would you? I can make you whatever you like for breakfast. I got to reward my little girl, after all. Come on. Make it better.”

Pidge looked to the clock, whose hands glowed in the dark. It was late at night, but not a school night, and it meant that Shiro could take his pleasure for as long as he wanted, which would leave her both sore and exhausted. Bile rose at the back of her throat. It burned and scorched, even as she swallowed it down, and she tried to remember the past times that had Shiro passing out from pleasure or more inclined to leave her alone.

There was no choice but to play his game. Pidge adjusted her glasses, while she observed his expression very carefully for any changes, and he looked gentle tonight without coming towards her, which meant he wanted ‘soft and tender’ and not ‘hard and rough’. It took her longer than usual to reach the bed, as her nerves overcome her, but soon she climbed onto the mattress and crawled over to him on all fours. He licked his lips and jerked his head up. It was a signal for her to strip. Pidge drew in a deep breath and gripped hard on her nightdress.

The young girl crossed her arms at the hem, before pulling them up and yanking the garment over her head, and – with a casual gesture – threw it across the room. The cold turned flat nipples erect; there was no real hint of breasts yet, although her budding chest held a little more puppy fat than before, and Shiro still called them ‘tits’ in his more vulgar moments, while he fondled the slowly developing chest with great interest.

Pidge wore no underwear. There were smears of lubrication on her upper thighs; Lance had given her a great deal of lubrication bottles over the recent months, explaining to her how to use them and advising her to _always_ be lubricated in case of suddenly being ‘called upon’, and his advice was invaluable beyond words. He even passed onto her one that gave ‘tingly feelings’, so that she would at least be somewhat aroused when taken, and assured her that always made it ten times easier. He hadn’t been raped like her, but he understood.

“Come closer,” said Shiro. “Look at this.”

Shiro lifted his arm. Pidge came to sit beside him, as she forced herself to curl against him, and the warm skin reminded her a little of hugs with her mother or play-fights with her father, of innocent days and happy nights, and it nearly brought tears to wonder how such a happy life could turn into something so dark. Why did her parents trust her to this man? Did they know what he was like? Did they just not care? They never treated her badly, not even in their angriest moments, but here she was with a man’s arm around her.

Shiro rested his cybernetic hand upon her chest, while the other brought his phone between them to show her the images, and – as she tried to focus on the small screen – he massaged her swollen chest and flicked at her nipples. It brought a gasp from her lips. He always knew how to make her feel ‘good’, which only added to her shame. Pidge wanted to sob and cry and scream; how could her body like the abuse, when her mind loathed it?

The small phone screen revealed Keith and Lance. Keith was flat upon his bed in the boys’ bedroom, while Lance was over him and thrusting inside him, and – even as Keith fought and screamed and scratched – Lance continued with a look of absolute pleasure. Katie closed her eyes. There was an intense stab of betrayal, as well as absolute dread that Lance may have become the very man they so despised, but Shiro continued to grope at her chest even as he laughed and turned off the phone. He audibly licked at his lips.

“Make me feel good, babe?”

Pidge opened her eyes and obediently moved. Shiro slid the phone underneath his pillow, while he threw back the sheet to reveal a long cock, and Pidge – even as she sat astride him – felt ever intimidated by his length. It made her wonder how the boys and girls in Shiro’s movies coped, as they seemed to be impaled by members twice the size of his, and yet she looked at the swelling vein on the underside and shuddered. The head itself was flared and red. It was also the hardest part to take inside, as it spearing her small body in two.

The young girl took little time to fulfil his desires; Pidge had to stand a little on her feet, still too small to position herself over him by kneeling alone, and slowly positioned his length – weeping pre-come to an obscene extent – just beneath her hole. It felt hot and wet. It seemed to mould itself to her natural curves perfectly, as if the very head was designed for these kinds of acts, and her knees nearly gave way with the strain of her weight.

Pidge allowed gravity to pull her down. The lubrication and mild arousal helped; she slid slowly to the hilt, until pubic hair struck against her bare crotch, and Shiro swore and squeezed a hand between them, so he could rub the hairless mound and praise her for being so ‘perfect’. He pulled her hands to his shoulders, while she knelt astride him, and one hand came to a nipple to tug and flick and twist while the other moved to her clitoris, rubbing it with an expertise that had her clutching at his shoulders with a cry of pleasure.

“You like that, bitch?” Shiro asked. “You fucking whore.”

The words brought tears to her eyes. It was easily masked as pleasure, even as tears fell from the corners and blurred her vision, and – as he leaned down to suckle at her breast – he rubbed her clitoris in two circles with his thumb and finger. Pidge gave a series of short and high-pitched cries, now moving up and down for friction, while Shiro whispered and hissed words like ‘slut’ and ‘come-bucket’ and ‘fuck-toy’. They didn’t mean much to her, except as horrible insults remembered from the more extreme videos. Pidge wept in earnest.

Shiro stopped suckling at her breast and moved both hands to her hips, where he helped lift her up and down in a fast-paced rhythm that had him moaning in ecstasy, and – as she pounded upon him with little slaps and slurps from the lubrication – her inner walls clenched around him and grew impossibly hot. Pidge grew breathless, while her insides tingled and her muscles fell weak, and she found herself growing more and more aroused.

“Fucking come for me,” ordered Shiro.

Pidge brought a fist to her mouth. It did little to stifle her cries, as she looked to Shiro and saw him leaning back to watch her with open mouthed moans, and she hated how his eyes dilated and his chest was flushed red. It felt full inside, not painful and yet not comfortable. It was enough to get her clenching around him, while she fidgeted and tried to get more of him, and soon the pleasure built until tiny hands clawed red marks down his bare chest.

It was fucking ecstasy. Pidge gave a silent cry, while her insides fluttered and her head dropped backwards, and she exposed a long column of neck for him to lean into and bite, and – as the pain of his love-bites mixed with the pleasure – she slowly came down from her high. Shiro screamed into her neck. It hurt her ears and made her wince, but he shuddered inside her and let loose his come all over her wet vagina, until it dripped out from the sides and made her thighs soaking wet with his orgasm and hers. It made her light-headed.

Shiro held her flush to him, until he rolled her onto the bed and leaned over her. It felt good to be against cool sheets, even as her tears slowed and stained her cheeks, and better still for him to pull out and let her legs fall slowly closed in a natural manner. The eyes above her looked hungry and raked over her body, until she was forced to bite her tongue to hold back broken sobs that would alert him to her fear, and – in obedient expectation – she spread her legs and let him slide down the sheets to place his head between them.

“I want to eat you out,” said Shiro. “Taste my come.”

“P-Please,” lied Pidge. “Please lick me.”

Shiro laughed and licked at her hole.


	4. Chapter 4

“Time to wake up, Lance.”

Lance groaned in his sleep. He rolled back onto his side and curled into a ball, while he tried to focus on reality and instead saw thoughts lead into more thoughts and more thoughts, until his body relaxed once more and his dreams overtook his mind. A person sighed in his dream. It followed with a shake to his shoulder, as reality and dreams clashed together, and he jerked into an upright position with a great gasp of air. Breathless. Afraid. Heart racing.

It was hard for his eyes to adjust; it was dark in their bedroom, but – with a glance over to Keith – he saw the younger boy with covers pulled up to his chin, trapped tight in his closed fists, and his eyes were scrunched so shut he must have seen stars. Lance blinked away sleep and yawned, vaguely remembering how Shiro never raped Pidge in her room or woke her up, but he knew that was a privilege hers alone to claim. If Shiro wanted Keith, pretending to be asleep wouldn’t change that. Lance let out a long sigh and rolled his shoulders.

“Who’s that?” Lance mumbled.

A shadowy figure bent down beside him. There were dark brown eyes and white hair, but purple skin and a rounded face, and – as Lance looked the alien man up and down – he saw the peg leg and exceptionally large member and fingers. _Rolo_. He was naked with bandages about his waist, but his member was on full display and erect. It was a frightening sight to gaze up, as it was split in two, and Lance remembered being told once that it could ‘penetrate two holes’ at once. He only usually removed one to masturbate. Lance shuddered.

The tips of those two members wept pre-come, just as clear as Shiro’s, and those two hands came to undo the buttons of Lance’s nightshirt. Lance yawned and rubbed at his eyes; the sleep was soon removed, along with his clothes, and – by the time he processed what was happening – he realised that Rolo was greedily eye-fucking him with a tongue running over his lips and eyes dilated with arousal. Lance’s heart raced with absolute dread.

He was awake now. He sat naked in bed, with the naked Rolo before him, and his hole – prepared before bed, just in case – leaked lubrication onto stained sheets. Lance swallowed, desperate to wet his now dry mouth, and he eyed both Keith and the nearest exit, as he wondered whether it would be wrong to try and suggest Keith over him, but he kept quiet and scrunched closed his eyes. Lance had hurt Keith enough. He owed it to him to protect him somehow, no matter how small, and maybe this would be his recompense . . .

“Do you want a blow job?” Lance whispered.

“Not tonight, whore,” said Rolo.

“O-Okay, I know – I know I did a bad thing.” Lance let the tears run down his cheeks. “I know I – I took Keith’s virginity and – and – and Shiro wanted that, but I – I – I’m sorry and I – I don’t want to play with Gunther again. Can we just maybe forget what I did? I know I deserve to hurt and I probably deserve to be raped for raping him, but I don’t –”

“Hey, kid? Shut the fuck up, alright? It’s me or Gunther. _Pick_.”

Lance swallowed again. He felt a hand upon his chest, as thick fingers rolled his nipple into an erect mound, and he instinctively hissed and moved into the touch, as Rolo laughed and slid another hand along the curve of his back and over his buttocks. A long finger – about the size of a smaller penis – worked its way between his two cheeks, prying them apart until it found itself to a sore and swollen hole. It forced its way inside.

Lance cried out and threw out his hands. He gripped Rolo’s shoulders, while he threw back his head and arched his spine, and – as legs automatically spread, sitting upon the heels of his feet – he moaned and swore and closed his eyes. It was good to be filled, even if he hated the person filling him with a passion. Rolo worked his prostate with an expertise that had Lance seeing stars and choking back on spit, and he thrust up and down upon it in a way he knew Rolo liked. Lance locked eyes with him, despite his shame, and licked his lips.

The room was warm and the sheets were cool. Lance reached out for that body, whose skin was so inhuman and yet so smooth, and wrapped his arms around that muscled neck, before he forced his lips to Rolo’s and pushed his tongue inside that mouth. He tasted honey, something sweet from the desserts Shiro likely served him while he waited for the master bedroom to be readied for the camera, and those two members pressed against him.

Rolo growled and pushed Lance down.

Lance let his legs dangle over the edge of the bed, while he threw his arms over his head and arched his back again, trying to focus on the pleasure, as Rolo spat inside his hole and worked in an extra finger. He was stretched to breaking point. Lance tried to picture Nyma with a strap-on, maybe someone as hot as Allura with her fingers inside him, and – as he let fantasies overcome him – it was more difficult to lock eyes with Rolo, but it was what Rolo wanted. The grown man wept pre-come. Rolo said in a rough voice:

“Do you want me? I’ll fuck you until you break.”

It was an almost tempting offer. Lance would have accepted, but he _knew_ they would still make him fuck Gunther after and Shiro would be furious to lose out on Lance’s virginity, too, and – with nothing to gain . . . Shiro would rent him out. There was already a list of people willing to pay to fuck Lance, with Rolo at the top with a cool five grand for an ‘no rules’ night of total torture and debauchery, and that would be a fate worse than death. Lance squeezed around those fingers and worked his hands up to work his nipples.

He was hard in turn, with member standing to attention. Lance held back on touching himself, even as he flicked his nipples with shivers of arousal coursing through his body, and he ground down on those two fingers. He reached out once more to run a hand through white hair, only to push his fingers into Rolo’s mouth and let the man lick him and suck him and taste him, only to remind himself there was no choice here. None.

“N-No,” said Lance. “I want Gunther.”

“Huh? Make me believe it.”

“I want Gunther inside my hole,” lied Lance. “I want to feel him fuck me. I want to be his bitch. I want him to claw at my back, while he knots me like the whore I am, and – once he fills me with his doggy come – I want to taste you deep in my throat. I want to be used and abused and I want Shiro to come over me. I want to taste you and feel your come. Mark me.”

“Well, you’ll get your wish.” Rolo laughed and spanked him. “We actually have a few men around tonight. There’s five of us. We’ll give you a bukkake you won’t forget, all while you fuck Gunther on camera and scream so loud that you wake up your siblings.”

“You – You won’t take them? You won’t use them?”

“Not if you do a good job.”

Lance nodded his consent. The two fingers were pulled from his hole, before Rolo lifted him up against his chest and carried him almost like a child. It was an impressive feat; Lance was thirteen and tall for his age, but he couldn’t feel too amazed by Rolo’s strength when his cock was trapped between the two of them, and already he was thrusting and bucking to try and get some friction between them. He wanted to find a release to his arousal.

Rolo carried him out of the room; the door creaked closed behind them, where Lance was sure he heard a sigh of relief from Keith, and he winced at the very idea that it could be Keith to endure that level of abuse in the years to come. He kept his head down in the hallway, while he pressed kisses to Rolo’s neck and blew in his ear, and Rolo – with a deep laugh – bounced him and slapped his buttocks one more time. Lance yelped and squirmed, as he bit into that neck and focussed on leaving a love-bite that would be hard to cover up.

“I may just kidnap you and make you my slave,” murmured Rolo.

“Do you promise, Daddy? I’d finally be all yours.”

“Shit. You’re so fucking hot!”

Rolo kicked open Shiro’s bedroom door. The room beyond was different to usual; Shiro had pushed his bed into a far corner, which allowed for the three cameras and the five men, and – centre of the room – was a blanket thrown across the carpet for Lance’s benefit. Rolo threw Lance hard upon the floor. Lance rolled and caught himself on his forearms, before he crawled centre of the blanket with the three cameras on tripods and angled to get the best angles of the show to come. He kept his head low and looked about the room.

Lance recognised Throk; he sat naked in a corner next to Gunther, who pined and scratched tried to do anything to get over to Lance, but Lance’s eyes moved from him to the other two men that terrified him beyond all else. Sendak and Haxus stood by the windows, each man stroking himself fast enough to stay hard and slow enough not to come. Shiro sat on the edge of the bed, while Rolo adjusted the cameras with his two dicks jerking in arousal.

“Finally,” spat Throk. “I thought we would never get our money’s worth.”

“You paid for a show, you’ll get a show,” promised Shiro.

“Plus, this one’s horny as fuck,” added Rolo. “He was going to fuck me the second I woke him up, but I had to tell him ‘no’ because we got this whole thing planned. He’s nothing but a greedy little whore. You just get the dog going and Lance will do the rest.”

Sendak came over with low and loud footsteps. He knelt before Lance, as he took the teenager’s hand into his hands and lifted his face to meet his eyes, and – as Lance looked at him – he _knew_ he would have to put on a show to make them come, lest he wanted them to fulfil their needs inside him. Lance reached out to put a hand around that barbed cock, which was short and yet wide to an extreme, so much so that it was shaped and sized like a fist.

It was difficult to grasp with just one hand, so Lance moved to use both. He jerked the Galra man, until an organic hand was fisted into his hair, and – as he held back tears – reached out with his tongue to lick the tip. It was sweet, almost addictive, and it acted something as an aphrodisiac, as Lance licked low and slow stroke through the tip while milking that barbed dick for all it was worth. Shiro swore, while Rolo laughed and reached down to slide a finger back inside him, and Lance cried out in unwanted pleasure, as he suckled the head.

Sendak soon pulled away. He slapped Lance about the face, bruising brown skin and forced him down onto all fours, before he signalled to Rolo to pull out his finger and step back. It was a horrible empty sensation. Lance gaped around air, as he lowered himself onto his forearms and lifted his butt as high as possible. He knew they wouldn’t wait long, but he locked eyes with Haxus and smiled despite how his eyes watered. Lance said:

“I feel so empty, Sir. I – I need to be filled.”

Haxus gripped the base of his dick to keep from coming, while Throk pulled Gunther over into a close position, and – as the Galra started to take a hold of Gunther’s member, as he worked it free of its sheath and coaxed it out into the air – Lance let the tears run down his bruised cheeks and drip onto the blankets. Haxus got off on pain. Sendak got off on humiliation. Rolo got off on him being a ‘whore’. Shiro and Throk on the dirty talk.

“I’m so hot,” moaned Lance. “Please, let Gunther fuck me.”

“Don’t worry,” said Throk. “He’ll fuck you soon.”

Lance felt something cool at his hole. He yelped and raised a hand to his chest, where he made a show of playing with his nipples, all the whole Throk continue to apply the soon warming liquid around his hole and just inside by about an inch. Gunther came close. The Holt family dog – taken in by Shiro, along with Pidge and Lance – started to lick at his hole to get at this liquid and it was sickeningly arousing to him. The tongue was rough and hot, providing instant stimulation as he continued to work at his nipple. He looked to Sendak.

The grown man was breathing deep and fast, chest heaving and hand squeezing his dick to keep from coming, and Rolo – with laughter and constant movement – took photos with the flash on, which sent painful bolts of light into his eyes. Gunther licked and slurped without any pattern or rhythm. Lance locked eyes with Sendak and mewled, before he opened his mouth wide and flicked his tongue in a ‘come-hither’ motion. Sendak stormed before him.

“Please, I need to be filled,” begged Lance. “Fill me.”

Sendak growled and wrapped a hand around the back of his head, before he yanked that open mouth down over his cock and forced Lance to choke with the abrupt sensation, and – as he struggled to keep his jaw wide around that massive girth – drool dripped from his mouth and down those heavy balls. Lance dropped his hand from nipple to floor, as he braced himself and let Sendak force his head up and down over his erection. Barbs cut into his tongue.

“Is that slut _finally_ going to get fucked doggy-style?” Rolo asked.

Lance tasted blood, as it mixed in with Galra pre-come. He moaned and licked around the head, as he suckled and moved his hands to thick thighs, and ignored the way that Gunther was soon lifted onto his back. The fur actually felt good against his back, enough he could almost pretend that it was the soft faux-fur of the rugs in the basement, where he would hide and run his fingers through the various hairs, which would move like liquid with each touch and mould themselves to his body. Gunther was heavy and encompassed his whole back.

There was a slight draught from where the dog wagged its tail, but then Throk guide that long and red erection toward his hole and after – one, two, _three_ – various attempts to get inside his tight and waiting hole . . . Gunther was fully sheathed inside him. Lance cried out and clenched upon those thick thighs. The dog was hot – _so fucking hot_ – and nothing like the plastic toys usually placed inside him, and it was actually . . . nice.

Lance sobbed, ashamed and sickened by the pleasure he took as his erection retuned. Gunther thrust inside him with fast and hard movements, while claws cut lines down his back, and the fur rustled and rubbed against his back. Tears ran down his cheeks, as he retched and gagged and struggled to fight the pleasure of being dog-fucked by an actual dog, but there was only laughter from the men around him. He looked to his side to see that Throk was pointing his erection directly at his cheek, and – with a burst of hot and wet liquid – he came on Lance.

“I wish I was inside that bitch,” gasped Throk.

The cock went down quickly, but the ropes of come continued. They went over his cheek and neck and shoulder, where they dropped down along with the drool, and then Throk dropped onto his back and milked the last bit of come onto his stomach. Gunther whinnied and his back legs would move back and forth, as dewclaws cut shreds into Lance’s back, and his tongue would loll out with heavy pants, while he fucked Lance like an actual bitch. It struck his prostate each and every time. It filled him to the brim. It was heaven.

“Get ready to take your turn, Haxus,” ordered Sendak.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Haxus replied.

Sendak roared out his orgasm, as he pulled back and came over Lance’s face. The ropes of come struck his eyes and nose, making it difficult to breathe for a long moment, until he struggled to open his eyes without that familiar sting. There was barely time to think, as soon another cock was shoved down his throat, and this time – far longer – Lance truly struggled not to throw up over the lengthier dick, while come dripped down his face and chin.

It didn’t take long for Gunther to come, too. Lance would openly admit to losing time, so it was perhaps that longer had past, but thick and rich come from the dog flooded his body, until he was sure his stomach distended and his insides ached. He was full, like he needed to defecate, but the dog’s cock knotted inside him and he screamed out when Gunther tried to pull away. It tore at his inside and stretched him to breaking point. Rolo rushed over to hold Gunther in place and calm the dog down enough to stop him from struggling away.

“That’s it. Scream for me, you fucking shit,” snarled Haxus.

Haxus pulled out of that open mouth. Lance screamed and cried, tears forcing a path through the come, as Haxus gasped and jerked his length, and – forcing Lance’s head down with a clawed hand – he came over those brown locks of hair. It weighed down his hair and cooled before it could seep onto his scalp, and he sobbed as he saw Throk growing hard once again and likely expecting a blowjob when all this was done, and he cursed how the come would matt and knot his hair the following morning. Haxus crawled away.

“I think the dog’s deflating,” whispered Rolo.

It certainly didn’t feel like fifteen minutes; it was usually that long for Gunther to deflate, but Lance couldn’t be certain he hadn’t passed out at any point, especially when he felt an explosion of come onto his side and looked to see Throk jerking himself a second time. Throk had been lying down, hadn’t he? Had Lance really passed out? He struggled to maintain his vision, while Gunther slid out and was led away, and soon a vibrator was slid into his aching hole to keep the dog come in place. Rolo knelt behind him.

“One day I’ll fuck you raw,” promised Rolo. “I’ll make you bleed.”

The older man reached down to tuck at Lance’s dick, while he turned on the vibrator to its highest setting, and fucked the cleft between two buttocks . . . Lance cried out, writhing against the moving plastic . . . it felt good, too good, so fucking good! He hated himself. He wanted to die, as something so disgusting – so immoral, so wrong – shouldn’t feel so good, and he never wanted it . . . he never wanted it, but it was so hot . . . he was so close.

Lance threw back his head and silently came. Come burst from his thirteen-year old cock, where it soaked into the blanket and dripped down over Rolo’s hand, and he shuddered and jerked, before he collapsed onto the blanket and fainted once more. The pleasure was too much. He opened his eyes to bask in the afterglow, only to feel come now on his left buttock and trickling down his thigh, and looked up to see Sendak and Shiro side-by-side and aiming dicks over his back. They came with a loud scream on Shiro’s part. Lance wept.

The come struck the open claw wounds and stung like fuck.

He cried out, but it was a mistake. He saw Haxus now hard and laughing, enjoying his pain, and his fucked out state drew another erection from Rolo, who was lifting his head and forcing an erection back into his mouth. Lance passed out again when the vibrator was removed and two Galra fingers – seemingly Throk’s – were pushed inside him, and he tasted come bitter and thick and rich upon his tongue, forced to swallow most and to show the camera the rest. Another person came onto his back one more time.

“Did you like that, my come slut?” Shiro asked.

“Yes, Daddy, I like that.”

“Good, because someone wants a second-round.”

Lance couldn’t move his head. The muscles in his legs were weak and ached to the extent he could not support the weight of his body, and his breaths came in long and low pants while his eyes struggled to stay open and come started to crust them shut. He opened and closed his hand with empty and lazy fists, just to make sure to himself that he could still move them, while someone rolled him onto his back and another lifted his legs up to his shoulders. It exposed his gaping and loose hole to the cold air. It nearly bent his spine in two.

“You’d get good money selling him out,” someone suggested.

Lance didn’t hear Shiro’s reply.

Gunther was inside him.  

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Where are you going, Lance?”

Lance froze. He stood with hand outreached, long fingers hovered midair, and he mentally fought with himself whether there was still time. The door was so close, just a few inches away, but he knew there was only so far he could run before Shiro or the police caught up with him, and – best case scenario – he would be taken into care only to leave Pidge and Keith behind. He felt his stomach roll, as bile rose to his throat.

The hall was dark, with the stairs behind him stretching onward to forever. He chanced a look behind him, knowing he had skipped every squeaky step and every stray toy, and saw that neither of the other two was in sight. He closed his eyes and dropped his hands. It was a relief that would be short-lived, but at least they wouldn’t see or hear him being punished, which would only add to their problems. Lance dropped his rucksack by his feet, where it thudded like a heavy weight and remained strongly in his consciousness.

“It’s nothing,” muttered Lance.

Shiro stood up in the lounge. It was pitch black, enough that Lance struggled to focus, and as his eyes watered with the rush of adrenaline that precipitated fear. He backed up a step, even as Shiro walked over to him. He kept his eyes low, hoping that some deference might make his hero sympathetic or lenient, but Shiro continued to walk even as Lance continued to back up, and he didn’t stop until Lance struck the back wall. It was cool and solid, grounding him even as his arms shook and he grew light-headed. He became faint.

Lance scrunched his eyes shut, as Shiro reached down to pick up his bag. There were sounds of rummaging through clothes, while a photo-album of his family was thrown to the side, and a toy of the Blue Lion – his favourite as a child – was tossed out along with his clothes. The bag was then tipped upside-down. Shiro ran his hand along the seams and inner pockets, yanking out some stray ten-dollar notes and a bus ticket to the nearest city.

“This doesn’t look like ‘nothing’,” spat Shiro.

A pair of tickets was thrown in Lance’s face. The plan had been to make it to another state, using the nearby city as a stopping point, but he knew that would be impossible now, especially as Shiro would call the bus stations to put them on alert. A sense of absolute dread overcame him, as his body grew weak and a cold sweat broke over his skin. He looked to Shiro and saw a pale face with half-closed eyes, as if the older man were genuinely disappointed in him, and – for a brief second – a shred of grief consumed him.

“Do you not want to live here, Lance?”

“I – I mean – of course, I do.”

“It doesn’t seem that way,” said Shiro. “I give you _everything_ you could ever want, don’t I? I give you clothes, food, shelter . . . I take you to and from school, I help you with your homework, I let you have friends over . . . I look after you. Is that not enough?”

Lance bit his tongue . . . ‘ _that’s what guardians are_ supposed _to do’_ , _said Pidge as he packed his bag and begged her to go with him. ‘He doesn’t get brownie points just for doing the very basic that’s expected from him. Don’t keep excusing him!’ . . ._ he knew there was never fear with the Holt family, just like there was never fear with his parents. He feared Shiro. Lance looked up into that scarred face and his heart raced, while his hands clenched into fists, and he swallowed hard in anticipation of what might come next. He shrugged.

Shiro sighed. He gripped Lance’s face between his hands, so that the cybernetic hand warmed against his cheek, and leaned in close with a smile that nearly broke Lance. It was the smile of his mentor and hero, someone he always looked up to and always adored, and yet it was the same smile of his bully and abuser. Lance couldn’t reconcile the two. He wanted nothing more than to understand how Shiro could be both good and bad, but . . . he couldn’t.

It was nice to be held and touched. It reminded him of hugs from Pidge or when he cuddled up to Mrs Holt, and it was so easy to pretend that this would be it, but he knew that Shiro would want more and this would never be enough. He flinched as Shiro slowly stroked down his neck, before massaging his shoulders, and then those hands returned so that a finger could stroke at his lips and part them, until that same finger slid inside his mouth. Lance suckled and licked, pretending as if it were the length so familiar to him. The digit pulled back.

“You’re fourteen now, Lance,” said Shiro. “Too old for this.”

“I – I would have came back, honestly.”

“Did you tell anyone about this? About us?” Shiro slid his finger back, but this time added a second and relished in how Lance was gagged. “I have video, Lance. I have video of you showing your love to Keith . . . you know they don’t understand, which is why we have to keep this secret, and they’ll take you away for what you did. They’ll hurt you.”

“I – I – I didn’t – I didn’t mean t-to hurt Keith, honest!” Lance spat out the fingers and blinked away tears. “I thought I was making him feel better and I just . . . I just wanted to be the one in charge for once. That’s all . . . I’m sorry. I – I stopped after a while.”

“How many times did you take him in the meantime?”

“Three? Four or Five? I didn’t mean to . . .”

Shiro laughed and pulled Lance flush against him. Two hands came down to grope at his buttocks, which were still well lubricated from an earlier session on web-cam with a double-ended dildo that was shared with Gunther, the Holt family dog. Lance swallowed back the vomit that burned his mouth, while Shiro shoved his hands beneath the waistband of his pants and slid a finger into his loose channel. He aimed for Lance’s prostate. Lance – through tears – threw his hands to his mouth, holding back his cries, while he grew hard.

“Do you know what they do to boys like you in jail, Lance?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Lance pleaded. “I _swear_.”

“They rape them.” Shiro smiled at him. “It won’t just be one person, either. They will all take turns. They will fuck you over and over and over again, until you can’t take any more and you have to kill yourself to escape. I don’t want that to happen to you, but if you run away and I have to tell them _why_ then they’ll lock you away. They’ll rape you.”

Lance wept in earnest. The hand over his mouth barely hid back his sobs, while his free hand grabbed at Shiro’s shirt and clung on for his life, and all the while that hand inside his behind worked him to a state of painful erection. He hated himself. The shame overcame him, at how he could become hard at the mere discussion of rape, and he thrust against Shiro’s leg in desire for something to relieve his arousal. Shiro laughed and slapped his buttock.

He didn’t understand how his mind could hate these acts, but his body rebelled by giving him such intense pleasure, and – as he thought back to his nights in Keith’s bed – he realised that the younger male likely felt the same way as him. Keith would have gotten hard from having his prostate pounded, just like his dry orgasms would have been wrought from him with touches and foreplay and kisses, but it was entirely possible his objections were real. It was entirely possible that Lance had raped him, just like he feared being raped in turn.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Lance.

“You’ll have to prove that you’re sorry,” said Shiro. “I want you to make a special film for me, okay? It’ll be broadcast online for a few friends. Rolo paid me a pretty penny to see you do some extra special things, and – if you do well – I’ll even let you have some extra pocket money from it. I’ll believe you that you’re sorry. We can go back to being happy.”

“I’ll – I’ll do whatever you say, Shiro! I’ll make you proud.” Lance forced a smile and puffed out his chest. “I – I’ll even do you, too, if you w-want? I – I haven’t slept with anyone. I promise, but please . . . I’d rather it be you than strangers. I don’t want them to rape me.”

“A few men would pay a pretty penny for you, Lance. Rolo offered me five-grand just for _one night_ with you, so long as I give him no restrictions, but I told him ‘no’ because you were my favourite and I wanted you to come to _me_ when it was time to lose your virginity. I wanted to be the one to make love to you and hold you and caress you. I could still call him, just as I could still fuck you, but if you do what I say on this video -?”

“Anything! I’ll do anything! I’ll obey every word, I swear!”

“Good. You’re such a good, come-slut.”

Shiro continued to milk his prostate, but his other hand encircled his cock. Lance was rich with pubic hair now, while his member had grown to adult sizes, and he was very much a grower and not a shower, so that – once erect – his cock surpassed Shiro in size. He threw back his head and moaned low, surprised that Shiro could give him a hand-job with so little effort and such great skill. Lance was nearly ready to come, but Shiro removed both hands and slapped his ass hard enough that Lance cried out in pain. Shiro ordered:

“Follow me, bitch.”

Lance swallowed hard. He wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve, as he followed Shiro up the staircase to the main corridor, and – as he kept his head low, eyes strictly upon the carpet – he saw Pidge’s door open in his peripheral vision. Lance prayed she would stay asleep; he knew how much she suffered, but at least her ordeal was never filmed, and he hoped that would never change. He followed Shiro into his bedroom.

Shiro locked the door behind them. Lance blinked and struggled to adjust his eyes, but noticed that a whole area before the mirrored doors of the fitted-wardrobes reflected back an array of cameras, all stacked upon tripods. There were around three, which encircled a ‘nest’ upon the floor of various blankets and cushions, and he spotted some stray sex toys and bottles of lubrication on the outer rims, but he also saw the laptop that rested on the sheets of the bed just to the side. It showed a variety of boxes, each one with a strange man.

He knew the drill; each box was a man that was watching, who would jerk off to whatever show he gave them, but premium payers would get to give ‘commands’ via a chat-box to the side, which Shiro would use to call out ‘suggestions’ to him. Lance barely felt the hands upon him that removed his clothes, but soon noticed – wrapped within the ‘nest’ – a small and familiar figure. He was already naked when he realised what he looked upon.

“Keith?” Lance gasped.

Keith sat upright and rubbed his eyes with a tiny fist. He was as naked as Lance, but – so close to eight, yet forced into experience beyond his years – he looked to the two newcomers with eyes glassy and full of acceptance. It was as if he no longer cared. Those grey-blue eyes raked over Lance’s body, where they lingered upon his rapidly wilting erection, and soon tears beaded in the corners and fell down chubby cheeks. He started to choke on breath, while he raised his arms and little fists childishly before his face, and shook his head.

“I don’t want to,” sobbed Keith.

“Go comfort him,” whispered Shiro to Lance. “ _Now_.”

Lance moved over to Keith. He sat in front of him, legs folded beneath him, and – as soon as he came into shot of the cameras – he heard a series of beeps from the laptop, which indicated a lot of new viewers and new commands. Shiro moved over to the bed and freed his erection, as he sat before the screen and turned it to face him. There was a movement of his hand; he clicked the screen, likely to bring up a window of what the cameras saw, before he touched his member and slowly worked his hand up and down. Shiro licked his lips.

It was difficult to know where to look; he knew how it felt to have the entirety of the dark web looking at his naked body, without any means to refuse or demand to stop, and he knew those images would live forever on hard-drives and memory cards, so that anyone who wanted to use him as jerk-off material would have that control. He couldn’t look to Keith, though, not knowing that it was his fault he would suffer like this, too . . .

“I’m sorry, Keith,” whispered Lance. “I’ll make it not hurt.”

“I don’t want to! You said I wouldn’t have to.”

“I – I wouldn’t, but I told Shiro that I would, because . . . because I promised.”

Lance furrowed his brow, while Keith wept in earnest. He crawled over to Keith and tried to pull him in for a hug, only for the younger boy to punch him and curl into a small ball, and – as he fought away a confusing mixture of anger and lust and sympathy – he shook his head and cried in turn, until he was blind to the sights around him. There was a laugh from the screen, as the voice of Rolo echoed out as the highest payer and said something just beyond his hearing, but Shiro laughed in turn and repeated the command:

“Hit Keith, Lance. He hit you, didn’t he?”

“I don’t want to hit –”

He looked to Shiro and saw his hard member. He remembered the threats and saw Rolo’s face upon the screen, where he worked his hard cock with an expert hand, and he grew dizzy with the idea of being raped by either man. It was him or Keith. Lance drew in a shuddered breath and whispered ‘I’m sorry’ to Keith, before he struck him across the face. It was an open-palmed slap, which hopefully would be less painful than alternatives.

Keith was thrown upon his side, where he looked up with pained eyes. He looked terrified. It was the same expression he wore whenever Lance came into his bed at night, as well as when Shiro would send the others away and asked for ‘brother time’ with Keith, and the same expression Lance always saw when he looked at himself on the screen. A red mark appeared on Keith’s cheek. He sobbed, before he screamed and started to randomly attack and kick and scream, and an order from Shiro came through to ‘subdue’ him. Lance winced.

Lance started by trying to hold Keith down, but the younger boy would kick when his hands were held down and punch when his legs were held down, and – as fury and regret pooled together in his stomach – the anger boiled and boiled until he saw red. It was as if months and years of resentment overwhelmed every nerve in his body, so that he could no longer control the livid rage that consumed him. He watched himself through someone else’s arms.

Lance struck and beat Keith.

Every blow came fast upon the other; he finally had control, finally had an outlet, and yet – as he looked down at the silent boy who tried to shield himself – he wept and screamed and cursed with the searing guilt that at him. He wanted to protect Keith. Keith wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t Keith’s fault, but it _felt_ like Keith’s fault. The tears streamed down his face until the adrenaline stopped and his heart slowed, and he was looking down at a shaking boy who sobbed with broken and quiet moans and rolled onto a bruised side.

‘Finger him,’ said Rolo.

“You heard the man,” said Shiro. “Finger Keith. Eat him out, too.”

Lance rolled Keith onto his stomach. He reached out for the lubrication; he leaned down and placed his mouth to the abused asshole, while he felt liquid leak out from his own, and he hated how the sensation felt and pondered asking for a condom. He knew it would be disallowed. The ‘money shot’ meant coming for the camera, which likely meant marking Keith on some body part of their choice. Lance cursed and sniffed.

The hole tasted ‘wrong’, but it was difficult to say how. Lance caught strong taste, even as his tongue wormed its way inside Keith, and he noticed how Keith gave a few stray – albeit weak and passionless – kicks, as if just out of lingering rebellion. He fumbled a small amount of lubrication onto his fingers, while his eyes caught Shiro quickening movement on his length, and he saw how the screen glowed and moved with various ‘VIPs’ jerking it in time to the young boy being forcibly eaten out. Lance chanced inside a long finger.

Shiro moved the laptop to face the opposite direction. He came around – careful never to block the cameras – and knelt in front of Keith, with his erect length just inches from his baby brother’s face, while Keith continued to cry until the tears ceased to come. Lance worked a finger slowly inside; the taste of cherry was artificial, but made it easier to eat Keith out and provide a tiny hint of pleasure for the younger boy. It helped just a little.

“Add another finger, whore,” spat Shiro.

Keith turned his head and whispered ‘please, no’. Lance placed a kiss to his left buttock and whispered back a simple ‘I’m sorry’, before he slid in another finger to the very hilt. He listened to how Keith mewled, as his prostate was hit on a simple twist on the first try, and instinctively moved back into the touch. It felt good to have such control. Lance liked how every mewl and arch of the back was a result of his decision, but – at the same time – he hated himself for bringing those same feelings to another person. He hated it.

It wasn’t long before Shiro ordered ‘another’, and one further finger was slid inside. Lance spread his fingers and stretched the young boy as best as he could, occasionally licking and suckling at the rim, while he squirted lubrication directly inside Keith’s hole. Even when – with every clench of muscle or scissor movement of the fingers – lubrication oozed out down two pale thighs . . . Lance continued. He continued desperate to make it painless.

‘I want him on all fours,’ ordered Rolo.

“You heard the man,” said Shiro. “Get him on all fucking fours.”

“I – I think I want to face him,” mumbled Lance.

“You’re fuck him like the bitch he is.”

Lance wiped away his tears. He gave forth a ‘yes, sir’ and pulled Keith into position; he knew that Shiro would want to face-fuck Keith, so he helped the young boy balance himself on two hands, as he held onto those beautiful hips. Lance didn’t wait to push in to the hilt. There was a loud cry from Rolo who came hard; he seemed to come upon the web-cam, so white come blurred the image, and yet he stayed hard and continued to jerk off at a manic rate.

“Forgive me, Keith,” begged Lance.

He pushed in balls deep. Keith cried out with a wide-open mouth; it was all that Shiro needed to slide in his erect cock into a wet mouth, and – without a gag reflex – Keith’s eyes widened in shock and was forced to swallow around the head to take in breath. It was a pretty erotic sight, as Shiro face-fucked his baby brother with balls slamming against his chin and drool cascading down pale skin with heavy pre-come. Keith’s hands scratched and clawed at thick and muscular thighs, while Shiro gripped at black hair until clumps came loose.

Lance was close. He listened to the slurps of his cock inside that wet channel, while the walls clenched around him and milked him for all he was worth, and – as he pulled out for the camera – he came in long spurts and heavy streaks over those buttocks. A few streaks even made it over Keith’s back, with one even in his hair. Lance threw back his head and choked back a cry, until he passed out momentarily and fell onto the blankets.

‘Holy fuck, that bitch is good,’ murmured Rolo.

Lance blinked open his eyes, still in a daze, only to see Shiro pull back and come over Keith’s face. He forced open the seven-year old mouth, so that he could aim his cock and force Keith to catch most of the viscous liquid, and – as he wrenched the head to the side to show the camera – he laughed and tongue-kissed Keith. The boy’s hole gaped and leaked come, from where Lance must have been too slow to pull out, and lubrication made those beautiful and ripe thighs glisten in all too a seductive manner. Keith still sobbed.

“You’re going to blow Lance next,” promised Shiro.

He let go of Keith, who dropped to the blankets and curled in on himself. Lance crawled over to him, as he reached out to touch his shoulder, but Keith cried out and shirked him away, and Lance felt the rejection like a stab to the gut. He doubled over and retched, until he threw up over the sheets and emptied his stomach of all contents. Rolo mumbled something about ‘playing with the vomit’, but Shiro simply laughed with a ‘you don’t pay that much’.

Lance lay next to Keith and tried not to touch him.

He didn’t know how to make it better.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Do they tell you things?”

Keith clenched his hands into fists. The question lingered in the air, while he scrunched his eyes shut and buried his head into Shiro’s armpit, as if he could hide in that small crook of skin between limb and chest. He hated how quiet the house was at night. He hated how he could hear the ticking of the clock, along with pattered footsteps upstairs from Lance’s room, and – worst of all – he hated how the television let loose obscene sounds.

The room was dark aside from the flickering screen; Keith cried when he saw images of the family dog, so that Shiro was forced to fast-forward, and he sobbed some more when he saw Lance kneeling centre of a room full of men, only for each one to come on him until his skin was almost white and wet all over. Shiro eventually stopped the image upon Lance impaling himself on a vibrating dildo, while Shiro muttered curses and commands, calling him a ‘slut’ on every other word. He even came once or twice onto Lance’s face.

Keith sniffed and pursed his trembling lips; he tried to still them and ignore the cries of pleasure from Lance, which he knew were wrought from the boy without his consent, and his small body squirmed as Shiro’s hands ran along bare flesh. It was naughty to be naked in the living room, but Shiro didn’t seem to care. The grown adult lay flat upon the sofa, with Keith prone upon him, and moaned in contentment at the ‘brotherly bonding’ time.

“You can trust me, Keith,” said Shiro. “I’m your brother.”

Those callused fingers ran up and down his back, tracing patterns around the dimples above his buttocks, and then came back up to massage upon his shoulders. It was a gentle and almost innocent touch, but Keith knew well enough – as the past few weeks had taught him – exactly what those touches would lead toward. He was resigned. Keith would still kick and scream on occasion, but between Lance being forced to beat him and Pidge reminding him how much easier Shiro went on them when he obeyed . . . he learned to keep silent.

“Lance tells me things,” murmured Keith.

“Like what? Tell me, honey.”

“He tells me to stay lu-lo- _lubricated_.” Keith furrowed his brow, frustrated at struggling on a ‘simple’ word as Lance often bragged. “He sometimes forces me, if I don’t lubricate myself. He says it’ll make it less painful and make me enjoy it more, but then he looks sad and apologises over and over, and he doesn’t touch me any more, unless you make him.”

“So he keeps you lubricated and loose all the time?”

“Yeah. He gives Pidge lubrication, too. Pidge also tells me to always stay lubricated, but she also tells me not fight and yell and try to get away . . . I don’t like it when you make Lance hurt me, and you always give me sweets and toys and later bedtimes when I’m good, so I listened to Pidge. Pidge says it’s always better to obey. And – And Lance says to roll over and look away when you come into our room at night, so I don’t have to see him hurt.”

Keith knew it would be dangerous to say more. He bit his tongue when two callused hands gripped at his buttocks, where they massaged them and pulled them apart and then pushed them together, while fingertips dug in and left small crescent-shaped marks. Keith knew that Pidge revealed that Shiro only ever raped her in his room, so sometimes she would go to bed early or pretend to sleep when he came in to ask her to follow him, and that her real name was ‘Katie’ and she liked long hair and dresses and missed her parents.

He knew that he shouldn’t mention how Lance could flip from one emotion to another, sometimes crying himself to sleep and other times lashing out at Keith for the smallest transgression, and other times being kind and complimenting him. He didn’t reveal that sometimes Lance would masturbate and call out Shiro’s name, only to afterward burn himself with a lighter kept under his pillow. He didn’t say how Lance rarely slept as of late.

“Do they treat you right?” Shiro asked.

One hand came between his two cheeks, where two fingers on either side parted his buttocks, and then – with his free hand – he traced patterns along the red and swollen hole. It was sore even with a light stroke of a fingertip, as Lance was forced again to rape Keith on camera, and Keith had sat for at least an hour on the toilet afterward to be sure that the come was all out of his system. It hurt inside, too, like a bruise or a burn. He hated it.

Shiro slowly worked his finger inside. It filled Keith and added to the ache, but – thanks to the earlier rape, as well as Lance’s insistence on constant ‘preparation’ – there was no real pain and Shiro slid inside with great ease. Shiro appeared to enjoy the sensation. He let out a breathy moan and pushed his finger in and out, mostly just to the first knuckle, while his member came to life beneath Keith. It was hot and soft, always a strange feeling as it rubbed against his thighs and the head against his perineum, and Keith sniffed in fear.

“Are they nice to you?”

Keith tried to think about other things, just as Pidge told him . . . _‘think about how brave the red lion is’, ‘do you think people cried against the war with the Galra’, ‘you have to be strong like the Paladins were strong’ . . ._ he hissed as another finger slid in beside its partner, more so when Shiro made a scissor motion and stretched him and searched for his prostate. It made him wriggle and moan, which only turned Shiro on all the more, and he wondered whether that made it his fault. If he didn’t make Shiro hard, Shiro wouldn’t hurt him.

“Pidge – Pidge is my friend,” mumbled Keith.

“And Lance? Is he nice?”

Keith screwed shut his eyes . . . _‘don’t listen to Pidge’, ‘you want it to finish quickly and not take – like – all day’, ‘try clenching around him if he goes inside you and always lick along the vein on his dick’, ‘he gets off a_ lot _on dirty talk too’, ‘make him come and it’ll all be over’_ . . . Keith swallowed hard and tried to fight off his arousal. He used his hands to press himself up, placing one on either side of Shiro’s chest, and looked down to see his small penis erect.

It bounced and looked nothing like Lance or Shiro, not nestled among a nest of curls, and he wondered how long it would be before he looked like them, as well as whether he would be just like them once he looked like them. He wanted to cry. He didn’t want to feel good, but the little member was hard and ached and would only go away when the stimulation stopped, but Shiro was breathing quicker than before. The pre-come leaked so profusely from Shiro’s cock that it wetted Keith’s thighs and buttocks and made him wet. Keith sobbed.

Shiro added a third finger. He was red about his chest, while his heart raced, and he smiled down at Keith in a way that spoke of ‘love’, but he wasn’t so sure that it was love. Pidge always said it was wrong and not love at all, but Lance always said that it was how Shiro showed them how much he loved them, with it proving Keith was his favourite. Keith cried out when Shiro focussed entirely on his prostate and milked it for its worth. Shiro asked:

“You love me, right, Keith?”

Those three fingers were joined by a fourth, while Shiro thrust in and out of him, and he scratched at that muscular chest out of instinctual pleasure. Keith rode back upon them; he kept up a rhythm that was almost natural, while he looked to see Shiro looking back at him, and he mewled and groaned and hated how his body betrayed him. He was full and stretched and wet, just waiting for something to fill him up, and yet he wanted it to stop. It was too confusing. He mewled again when his prostate was milked for all it was worth.

“Yes, sir,” whispered Keith.

“You know what two people do when they love one another?” Shiro thrust in hard and fast. “They share each other’s bodies. Lance loves you, so he makes sure to show you by fucking you, and I want to share in that with you . . . I want to feel you from the inside. I want to make love to you. You want to make me happy, don’t you? Do you want that?”

“I – I don’t want you to be sad,” murmured Keith with a furrowed brow. “I – I – I don’t know . . . I know I’m supposed to make you happy, but it’s confusing and it’s sore and I want to go to sleep and I – I – I don’t know! What do I do? T-Tell me what to do, Shiro.”

“You need to ride me like the whore you are,” ordered Shiro.

Keith looked to Shiro with tears in his eyes. He didn’t know what a ‘whore’ was, but he knew that he only wanted to make his brother happy and make the bad feelings go away, and instead Shiro wanted to put his pee-pee inside him. Keith hated that. He hated it when Lance did it, but hated it more the idea of his brother trying to claim him. Keith held back his tears, remembering the advice of his foster siblings, and forced a smile.

Shiro wrapped his hands around Keith’s hips. The seven-year old was so small that they nearly encircled his waist, and he was so light that Shiro lifted him with absolute ease, and suddenly – with a gasp and hands holding onto hairy forearms for balance – he was positioned with knees on either side of those broad hips. Shiro was so big in comparison that his legs were spread beyond measure, while he was too short to hover above that erect cock, and so Shiro leaned him forward a little and angled his cock towards him.

“Fuck me, Shiro. I want it,” lied Keith.

“You’re the best brother I could ever want,” whispered Shiro. “I’m going to make love to you, but I want you to be as loud as you want, okay? You don’t have to hold back with me. I will never hurt you, Keith. You’re my brother. I love you so much . . . now fuck me.”

“It’s too big. Y-You’re cock is too big. I’ll break.”

“Trust me, I’d never hurt you, Keith.”

Shiro gently guided Keith back, until the flared head pushed against his hole. He cried out and raised his tiny fists to his mouth, as he bit down and tried to hold back a cry, but Shiro simply pushed him further down until he was at the hilt. Keith was full. He was made to sit upright, with the erect cock deep inside him, and he wept at how pleasurable and uncomfortable it felt all at once. It ached and burned his insides, but it was also warm and the leaking pre-come added to the natural lubrication. Keith fidgeted and mewled.

Every small movement caused the head to hit his ‘special spot’, which had him whining and groaning and clenching around that large penis, and he started to rock back and forth, grinding against the black pubic hair without actually lifting up and down. Shiro swore and reached under his pillow for his phone. Keith looked at him to see the camera light on, while Shiro opened his mouth and flushed deep red, and rocked up in turn.

Shiro soon let one hand drop, holding the camera in one alone. The other explored Keith’s body at leisure, with special focus upon his chest, and he worked at Keith’s nipples until Keith was crying out and groaning with a wide-open mouth. He was on the verge of screaming, as pleasure overcame him, and – for a minute – he wondered whether this was something natural, because it felt so perfect and so exquisite. Keith reached down to take his little member in hand, while he jerked himself fast and hard.

“I – I don’t know how to feel,” he murmured.

He hated how his body felt so good, but began to move up and down. Keith rode that cock like an expert, bouncing with head thrown back and rolling from side to side, while a hand worked at his nipple and the camera zoomed in on his reddened face. He continued to stroke his member, while he reached up to play with his other nipple. The cold air made his hair stand on end, but he felt so hot and so good and wanted so much more.

The thrust of the member pushed out what was left of Lance’s come, so that it seeped around the edges of his hole, and he was growing closer and closer to the edge, as he pounded harder and harder and cried louder and louder. He finally came. Keith clenched involuntarily around that hard dick deep inside him, while he dry came with stomach muscles clenching, and Shiro – nearly dropping his camera – came at the sound of Keith screaming blue-murder at the sensation of a mind-blowing orgasm. It was too much. Keith couldn’t bear it.

“F-Feels good,” murmured Keith. “You feel good!”

Shiro screamed in turn, until throat gave out and he became silent. The ropes of come spurted deep inside Keith, over and over until he pulled himself off that cock and spurts flooded his thighs, perineum, and balls. Keith collapsed onto his brother’s side, while come continued to ooze out of his twitching member, until Shiro pulled Keith up to his mouth and kissed him. It was not a kiss that Keith understood, but instead a ‘mommy and daddy’ kiss, where a tongue came into his mouth and moved around until Shiro pulled back breathless.

They lay beside one another, as Shiro dropped his phone onto the floor, and dozens of kisses were placed along Keith’s neck and shoulders and hands, even as Shiro pulled him close until sweaty flesh was against sweaty flesh. Those pupils were blown wide, while Shiro was still dazed and hummed contently to himself, and Keith smiled absently at how good he felt and how it was finally over, but then – as if to curse him – that cock jerked in arousal once more.

“You really do love me,” whispered Shiro. “We’ll have to do this more often.”

“In – In my room? Like you sometimes do with Lance?”

“Sure, honey. Hey, how about tomorrow I buy you that lion toy?”

Keith felt fingers at his mouth; he licked around the invading digits, even licking between them, and suckled as if his very life depended upon it, even as he moaned and looked Shiro directly in the eye just like he knew Shiro liked. He tried to employ Pidge’s method, as he thought about different things and focussed on it just being over, but he also wondered whether he could use sex to maybe get things from Shiro in turn.

“If I blow you, can I get the DVD set, too?”

Shiro burst into dangerous laughter:

“You can get the whole fucking shop, my little cock-whore."


	7. Chapter 7

Lance woke with a start.

He sat upright in bed, sheets clutched to his body, as he struggled to adjust his eyes. The room was black, aside from a slither of light from the open bedroom door, and the beam of light landed upon Keith’s bed enough to illuminate the boy’s space. Lance glanced over to see some movement, before he collapsed back down onto his bed. The sheets were soaked with sweat from a nightmare; images of Keith surrounded by men flooded his mind, as Sendak and Haxus and Throk took turns taking him and making him weep . . .

Keith was the only one that Shiro ‘shared’. It left a sweeping sense of overwhelming guilt; Lance questioned over and over and over whether it was his fault, whether by raping Keith he had left him ‘damaged goods’, and whether Shiro – knowing he wasn’t the ‘first, last, and only’ – used that as a basis for his decision to share. He was never rented out for more than various shows or oral sex. Pidge was never rented out at all.

Lance blinked away hot tears.

The room was relatively warm; Lance shrugged off the sheets from his body, as he sat in his silk pyjamas – a gift from Shiro after his last ‘show’ with Gunther – and reached up to tap against his facemask. The mask had solidified through the night. He sighed and tried to fight away the invasive thoughts, while his heart slowed down and the sweat upon his back began to dry away, and yet he struggled to calm his nervousness.

“Hey, you awake, Keith?” Lance whispered.

Lance yawned and positioned his pillows behind him, as he sat upright and gently pealed his mask from his skin and dropped the remains into the bin by his bed. He gently prodded at his jaw, only to smile at the sensation of soft and smooth skin, and – as he looked over to the bed against the furthest wall – he saw some movement. Lance rubbed at his eyes with a yawn, until he heard a loud cry of pain and felt his blood run ice cold.

The image on the bed before him grew visible. He felt his eyes adjust. Keith was above the sheets and naked, with his head turned to look at Lance with eyes filled with tears and cheeks flushed red with humiliation, and Shiro was between those tiny legs, also naked and bracing his weight upon the forearm nearest the wall. The grown man used his free hand to jerk Keith’s small member, but angled itself so that Lance could see the entire scene in all its glory, and he wondered whether Shiro planned it that way. It looked too staged.

Lance swallowed hard and locked eyes with Keith, who opened and closed his mouth with a struggle to hold back his cries, and – as Lance’s eyes ran over his body – he saw that he was hard and being worked by an expert hand. Lance winced. He could see how Keith struggled to pretend to want the pleasure, as he was likely woken from a deep slumber and forced to obey Shiro despite having pleasured him some hours before. Lance whispered:

“Keith? You okay?”

Keith cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Those little fingers shot out to hold onto Shiro’s wrists, as he strove to ground himself and focus on the matters at hand, and Lance – as his member grew half-hard against his will – saw a trickle of come from Keith’s hole, likely there was his earlier fuck-session. The small cries aroused Lance, reminding him of the orgasms wrought from him in the past, but the idea of getting off to the pain of his younger foster brother made him nauseous to his stomach. He blinked away tears.

It was difficult to fight off his arousal; he squeezed his legs together and clenched his hands into fists, while he drew in deep and long breaths and tried not to look at Keith, but – even as he strove to look elsewhere – he heard the gasps and broken gasps. He chanced a look back, where Keith was moving in time with the thrusts and throwing back his head in a way that exposed his neck. Shiro growled deep and primal at the sight.

“H-Harder, p-please,” begged Keith.

A tear ran from the corner of Keith’s eye, down over his ear and onto the pillow. Those blue-grey eyes were glassy and half-lidded, like the eyes of a porcelain doll, and he made the noises and the motions and likely even clamped around Shiro’s dick, but . . . he didn’t want it any more than Lance wanted to watch the show. He reached down to adjust himself, only for a jolt of pleasure to course through him. Lance clasped a hand over his mouth, as he strove to hold back the sound, but his cock was pulsing against his will and ready for more.

Keith issued forth a series of small and continuous cries . . . _‘ah, ah, ah’_ . . . Lance slid his hand beneath the waistband over his pyjamas and touched his erect cock. He bit his lip to hold back his moans, while he sobbed silently, only looking over to see Keith weeping despite a forced smile upon his lips. Shiro laughed through groans of ecstasy, as he pressed his lips to Keith’s and slid his tongue about in a sloppy and open-mouthed kiss.

It was oddly erotic. Lance wanted to look away, but Keith looked directly at him and mouthed a silent ‘help me’, while he continued to take a pounding that became nothing more than the sound of balls against buttocks and the slurps of an adult mouth upon the eight-year old lips. Shiro’s eyes were closed, while his chest was red with a flush of pleasure, and a sweat had broken out over his body so that his black locks clung to his forehead, and Lance – unable to stand it, but hating himself for it – jerked his cock in time to them.

“I – I’m sorry,” sobbed Lance.

Shiro thrust in one last time, until pubic hair scratched upon skin. He screamed. That adult cock pulsed inside Keith, until new come leaked out with the old, and he pumped his brother until Keith – through his tears – faked a cry of pleasure and gasped out Shiro’s name. Lance worked his cock faster and faster, as he strove to fight back the overwhelming self-hatred that consumed him, even as he saw how fucked out Keith looked in the night.

The stench of sweat filled the air. Shiro slid out of Keith, who leaked onto the sheets, and stood up on shaky legs. He braced himself on one wall, while he touched at his deflating member, and – as Lance remembered so many times spent with Shiro, groomed with sweets and toys and kind words – he threw back his head and spent himself in his pyjamas. A wash of pleasure overcame him, as his heart raced at a frightening speed, and he listened to his pulse beat within his ears. Hot ropes of come soaked into silk and coated his hand.

“Do you want him to lick you clean?” Shiro asked.

“N-No, thanks. T-Too sensitive,” Lance lied.

Shiro simply grunted and walked naked out of the room. The door closed shut behind him, and – unable to stand the anger and frustration and depression – Lance reached underneath his pillow for his lighter. It provided a familiar reassurance, as he flicked it open and struggled to light it in the warm air of their bedroom. Keith continued to sob. It was too much to bear . . . Lance came . . . he came to Keith being raped, with his orgasm peaking right as he saw Shiro naked before him. He hated it. He hated being such a monster.

“W-Why do – do you – do you keep doing that?” Keith asked.

Lance finally lit the lighter and slid up his sleeve. He pressed the flame to his skin and held it there for the count of five, until the pain grew so intense that his hand shook and he swore in a loud voice, and – as he dropped the lighter – he panted for breath and relished in the familiar pain that stung like a thousand pinpricks upon his flesh. Lance slid down into bed and returned the lighter to its usual place, while he let his arm hang in the air.

“Because I have to,” whispered Lance.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“We had a deal, Takashi.”

Shiro flinched. The cell was cold and cramped; it was empty save for the bunk beds and a toilet sans seat, which – while given a ‘modesty wall’ – enabled anyone sitting or lying on said bed to watch its occupant, and even from the prison door one could see said person’s upper body and position. There was a board over the wall opposite the beds, not more than a few inches away from said toilet, covered with personal posters and pictures.

There were many photographs of Sendak’s home planet, along with a few group-shots of him in uniform with other soldiers, and – on Shiro’s half of the board – photographs lined the board of Keith at various stages of his life. A poster of the Paladins sat centre. It bore the faces of Shiro, Hunk, Matt, Coran, and Allura . . . each one proud and alive, each one a defender of the universe and a founder of the Voltron Alliance . . . it was a fame that brought with it a double-edged sword. They knew his name and face. He was _known_.

He looked over to the bunk beds; the mattresses were thin pieces of foam over wired springs, and they would creak and groan every time Sendak fucked him, until sometimes the guards would bang at the doors or neighbouring cellmates would jack off in time to their thrusts. It was a foul place. The cells reeked of sex and sweat and stale food, while the small windows – barred and made from obscured safety glass – let in very little light.

“I remember, Sendak,” said Shiro.

Shiro knelt on he floor, with hands palm-upward upon his knees. They dressed him in the same black body-suit he wore during captivity, complete with the purple top that covered little more than the chest of his suit, and – as every day brought with it traumatic memories of his past – he noticed all prisoners wore the same outfit. Hunk had explained it as a change in prison uniform, due to prisons now equipping those of different species.

There were some nights where Shiro woke in a sweat. He would race to the toilet and vomited into its steel rim, so afraid he was back on the Galra ships, and – when he sobbed so much that his throat bled – Sendak would laugh from his lower bunk. Shiro hated the flashbacks worse than the nightmares . . . too many times would he collapse in the cafeteria, or have panic attacks within the bathroom . . . too many times had Sendak needed to rescue him, only to expect ‘repayment’ later within the privacy of their cell. Shiro let a tear fall.

“Not tonight, Sendak,” whispered Shiro.

“Hmm? Our deal was clear, _Champion_ ,” said Sendak. “You are _my_ bitch; I will protect you from being raped by our dear friends here, who are more than eager to make you feel every last penetrative act you forced upon the children, and – in return – you will bend over any time I give the command. Of course, if you would rather take your chances . . .”

Shiro winced. He remembered well his first shower in prison; it went well at first, until five men jumped him and pinned him to the wet tiles below, and – with a loud scream – he remembered the overwhelming agony of three digits thrust into his dry hole. Sendak entered. He stood on the sidelines. He watched them finger-fuck him, while one came on his face, and another forced entry into his mouth. He only intervened when one tried to force their cock inside his hole. He fought. He won. He claimed Shiro was his ‘bitch’.

No one could take Sendak. The Galra commander protected himself further by establishing a gang that could top all others in this brutal hierarchy; his entourage consisted of Haxus, Rolo and Throk, and no human could take on such alien specimens of absolute power . . . each at the peak of health, each trained in various fighting styles . . . no one dared take was ‘belonged’ to Sendak. No one so much as looked at Shiro’s direction.

“They hate men like you here.” Sendak stood before him. “Even in our empire, men like you were scum thrown into the gladiator rings at best . . . at worst, we would put you into the brothels and kill you once you were too disease-ridden to be a valid asset. At least your rapes would not be filmed, but would you consider that a blessing? I wonder.”

“You – You raped them, too. You’re just as bad as me.”

Sendak snarled, where he exposed his canine teeth. He squatted before Shiro and snatched at his lock of white hair, before yanking him off the floor until he reached eye level, and – as Shiro cried out in pain, knees hovering over the concrete – he fought the urge to grasp onto that thick wrist or forearm for leverage. Sendak leaned in close, so that warm and moist breath sent droplets of saliva upon his cheek when words were uttered, and spat:

“ _You_ took payments for them.”

“You fucked Keith,” murmured Shiro. “You used Lance.”

“Yes, every so often,” mused Sendak. “You were their _brother_. You _rented them out_. You raped them _every day_. In any case, no man here can come close to my strength, and – while you may take them out one-on-one – you cannot defend yourself from their groups.”

“They – They enjoyed it.” Shiro cried out, as Sendak yanked harder. “I – I love Keith more than anything; I made sure he was never hurt, I made sure he was prepared, and I always made sure he come. Do you call an orgasm ‘rape’? He consented, Sendak. You fucking heard him and Lance begging to be fucked. They begged you enough times. Lance was always vocal about it . . . ‘fill my hole’, ‘fuck me hard’, ‘make me come’ . . . they wanted it.”

“At least I do not delude myself,” muttered Sendak.

Sendak let go of his hair. Shiro collapsed to the floor, as blood trickled from his hairline, and he reached up to apply pressure to the wound and check his hair wasn’t pulled from the root, and – as he rolled onto his back and gasped for breath – Sendak stripped before him. The prisoner’s uniform was pealed away, until the thick fur over his body was exposed, and that thick yet short member was exposed. The barbs stood out menacingly over foreskin.

It was a violent reminder of the act to come; Shiro’s body was not designed for a Galra cock, so that he would often bleed from the inside, and – worst of all – it would knot inside him in a manner that would sometimes double its already massive girth. Shiro had never known that girth counted for more than length, but it was a fact that sometimes made him wonder whether it would be better to allow random men to use him than this Galra monster. He undressed himself in turn, knowing it was best to obey than for force to be applied.

“Very well,” said Sendak.

“‘Very well’, what?”

“If ‘consent’ is simply begging and coming, I shall wrench ‘consent’ from you.” Sendak laughed and slapped his face. “I have bribed the guards to let Haxus join us. He shall face-fuck you while I rape you, but you _will_ come and you _will_ have ‘consented’. Throk will also enjoy marking you with his come, as you cry out with forced pleasure, my Champion.”

“The guards won’t accept bribes,” said Shiro with confidence. “I was Hunk’s _team-mate_ ; he’s a moral and upstanding person, loyal to a fault, and he won’t sit back and let you guys gang-rape me just because you’re paid him off. He’ll put a stop to this.”

“Do you know he’s Lance’s guardian? He will allow this.”

“He – He barely even knows Lance, it’s been –”

Sendak slapped Shiro once more. He struck the already swollen and reddened cheek, causing a wave of pain to lash through his body, and – as Shiro caught himself before he fell – he spat out blood from the inside of his cut mouth. It was difficult to still his heart, which raced within his chest. A cold sweat broke over him, while he looked through the open cell doors toward the hallway beyond, and nearly wept when he saw Hunk leaning against a wall and looking away with indifferent eyes and folded eyes. Sendak leaned down to whisper:

“He is human. He has empathy.”

Teeth clamped down upon his bare shoulder. Shiro cried out in pain, as skin was broken and blood poured down over his chest and back, and he looked to see Hunk still looking the other way, unwilling to look his way and unwilling to move. It was common knowledge that Hunk was Lance’s foster father, but a few weeks were not enough to foster a bond with a fourteen-year old boy. Hunk finally looked in his direction. Those eyes locked upon him.

Shiro saw no judgement, only betrayal. Hunk looked pained beyond all reason, as his face softened and lips became down-turned, and his eyes watered so much that a tear actually ran down his dark brown skin. Sendak continued to bite around his neck, leaving bloody bite marks that would no doubt scar and scab, but there was no sign of consideration from Hunk, even as the same man who would take mercy on enemies and pity upon the weak. It broke something inside Shiro. He lost both a teammate and a friend. He lost Hunk.

Hunk was soon lost to sight.

Throk and Haxus entered the small prison cell, whereby they kicked the door closed, and there was no need to guess which guard let them out after hours, when all the cells should have been locked shut for the night. The slam of the cell door echoed about the prison, but no guards came and no one checked the noise. Sendak pulled back with bloody lips and threw Shiro onto the floor, where he lay prone and bloody and in tears, until Throk kicked him hard in his side and sent him rolling over onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling.

“Only I get his hole,” said Sendak. “Otherwise, do as you wish.”

Haxus stood over him, while Throk undressed. Shiro rolled back onto all fours, where he strove to hold back tears and remain strong, but his knees were bruised from last night’s fuck-session with Sendak, while his back was still cut into shreds from those claws. He struggled to kneel, but reached out to Haxus’ thighs for balance. The Galra cock dripped pre-come at a slow and steady rate, but this one had far less barbs and the barbs that were there held a soft nature without the pointed tips that would tear into him. Haxus asked:

“No rules?”

“None,” said Sendak. “Use him as you will.”

Haxus shoved his lengthier cock into his throat. It forced his jaws to open wide, to the extent they ached and he groaned in protest, and he struggled to work his tongue around the foreskin and slit with so many barbs in the way. They pressed down against his tongue. They made him gag, as he struggled to breathe through his nose and tasted the sickly sweet pre-come that burst forth from the tip in small spurts. Shiro struggled to see through his tears.

The tears blurred his vision and stung his eyes, but – as Sendak positioned him just right and knelt behind him – his hand was yanked by Throk and placed on another Galra dick, where he worked it with a familiar expertise. Shiro cried out in pain. The barbs cut into his palm, creating dozens of small slices like paper-cuts, and he struggled to maintain his grip while he worked his fingers in a wave-like rhythm, desperate to milk Throk until he came, as he hoped that an early orgasm would hurry his torture instead of prolonging the pain.

Pre-come flooded his hand and lips. Shiro licked around Haxus’ head, only to cut his tongue and taste the iron of blood, and yet he continued to pleasure them in hopes his humiliation would end sooner than later. He was lost in a daze of pain, until Sendak finally thrust balls deep inside him. Shiro screamed out in agony. The Galra cock was designed to be self-lubricating, but so too was the Galra anus. It wasn’t enough lubrication for a human.

“He has such beautiful cries,” groaned Throk.

Shiro wept, as Sendak thrust long and hard inside him. The cock was so wide he worried he would be literally split, while he often found blood mixed with the come, as it would drip down his thighs and stain his mattress. He often tried to seduce Sendak, in hopes of wooing him enough to take him instead of being taken, but the murmurs he received in response ranged from ‘it will not do to risk pregnancy’ and ‘I would rather see you bleed’. He coughed and spluttered around Haxus’ cock, while his hand struggled to stay purchased on Throk.

He knew that he couldn’t die in prison. They ran too many checks, with Hunk always confiscating anything that could be used to cut or hang him, and they even denied him any sheets. Sendak once filed down his canines, preventing him from cutting his wrists with his teeth, lest he choose to gnaw into them like a rat. Sendak filled him, while the barbs dug into his skin and left small cuts inside him. Shiro sobbed and sped up his hand movements.

“Shit,” moaned Throk. “I won’t last.”

Throk cried out through his orgasm; streaks of come struck Shiro’s cheek, as they ran down onto his lips and caught upon his tongue, and a few ropes stung at his eyes and completely distorted the vision on one eye. Throk moved to stand above him, simply so the last few squirts fell upon his head and matted into his hair, and finally backed off with deep and heavy gasps for breath. He quickly made to redress, apparently done now he came.

A few minutes later – as Sendak continued to pound into him, with the sound of balls against buttocks echoing about the cell – Haxus came long and hard. It choked Shiro. The come flooded his mouth and spurted out of the sides, until he coughed and spluttered and coughed up some bile along with the come. Haxus merely laughed and continued to come over Shiro’s face, while Throk laughed and left the cell for the two men to continue to use him alone. It was beyond humiliating and Shiro collapsed onto his forearms, covered in come and sweat.

“I think I’ll stay for another round,” gasped Haxus.

The cell door remained open. Shiro was jerked back and forth in time with the thrusts, with head and face covered in semen, and Haxus – as he moved to sit back against the far wall – lightly played with his softening cock in hopes of getting it erect again. Hunk looked in from his far position; those eyes met with Shiro, apparently indifferent to his agony and humiliation, and then looked away with a pursing of his lips. Haxus laughed.

Sendak raked lines down his back, cutting open flesh with his claws. Shiro knew he would be bloody and bruised by the time the night was over, unable to walk the following day and forced to rely on the guards to bring him meals, and yet Sendak would take no mercy, likely resorting to fucking him again that following night. A sheen of sweat broke over Shiro’s skin, as he buried his head into his arms, and he sobbed through a pain that was unlike anything experienced in the ring. There was no control. There was no defence.

It continued for some time. Shiro grew faint and weak, as he dazed in and out of consciousness, at which point Haxus tongue-fucked him – something far too brutal to call a kiss – and tweaked at his nipples with clawed fingers. The cock was reinserted not long after, so that Shiro was forced into another blowjob to make this man come. He locked eyes with Hunk when Haxus came. He stared at him, as he patrolled past the door.

“Allow me inside him,” begged Haxus.

Sendak growled. Haxus came over Shiro’s back this time, sending warm ropes over his flesh and marking him as being used, and – without his figure obscuring the doorway – Shiro looked out to see another guard patrolling in the other direction. He recognised the figure as one who once worked within the Garrison, but they sneered on sight of him and rolled their eyes, before they walked away and banged upon a far cell. They cared more about the murderers’ protection than they did Shiro’s well-being. Sendak cried out:

“He is mine and mine alone.”

There followed a loud scream. Sendak clamped down upon his hips, pressing so hard that he left bruises, while Haxus licked lines up and down Shiro’s sides, and soon there was a rush of wet and sticky fluid deep within his bowels. The slapping of testicles against his behind continued, while his body flushed red from humiliation and heat, and he was grateful to be on all fours to avoid seeing those dilated eyes and exposed canine teeth.

Sendak collapsed to the side; Shiro was pulled with him, as he cried out in absolute pain, and was held with back flush against that furred chest. The knot inside him pulsated. It locked them together, so that the semen was unable to leak out, and it filled Shiro far worse that that wretched cock ever could manage. He stared up at the ceiling, clinging to a sense of relief that it was finally over, before a foot was placed on either side of him and Sendak, and – as he focussed his eyes – he saw Haxus squat down with erect cock aimed at his lips.

“You’re in for one hell of a show then, Sendak,” promised Haxus.

Shiro wept all over again.


	9. Chapter 9

Lance knocked at the bedroom window.

The single-story home was a far cry from life with Shiro; it was located centre of town, far noisier than the suburbs ever managed, and there was a constant roar of traffic along with lights from various cars half-blinding him on every turn. There was paint peeling from the walls and the veranda, while Pidge’s window didn’t quite shut properly, which allowed a draught to blow inside and rustle the papers of her homework.

Pidge soon appeared at the window. The fifteen-year-old yawned and scratched at her head, which was mussed from a heavy sleep, and the long brown locks flowed over her shoulders in a tangled manner, which – while unkempt – only made Lance smile. Pidge was dressed in a pair of shorts and a green-and-white t-shirt, while a stray screw was stuck to the skin of her bare arm and a diagram was stuck to her cheek, and it was all he could do not to laugh, even as she realised the problem and wafted her school project onto the floor.

“Okay, you just stay outside,” said Pidge.

“No, no! I’ll be good,” promised Lance. “I promise.”

Pidge rolled her brown eyes and slid up the window. Lance climbed through the frame, Pidge made her way over to her twin bed and climbed on top, where she rubbed at her eyes and took another deep yawn. It was strange – even after the past four years – to see her without her glasses, but he knew better than to mention the fact. He could still remember the day her brother came to collect her from the home; the glasses were snapped in two, before a small eleven-year old foot stamped down on the lenses. They were never worn again.

The bedroom was a testament to her personality; computers and electronics lay scattered about the floor, along with various textbooks and manuals, and even her bed was covered in papers and projects and pens, so that she had to sweep them off with a kick of a hairy leg. He smiled to see how she embraced her natural state, but again knew better than to ask why, and – as he navigated through the mess – took a seat beside her and let out a long sigh.

“So how come I had to sneak in?” Lance asked.

He looked across the room to a ‘vision board’. There were a few photographs of Keith in a far corner, but most of the board was taken up by images of the Garrison and buzzwords and images of her brother, while – centre of all – was a photograph of Lance taken during his high-school graduation. He blushed and looked down to his feet, while he kicked at the carpet, and looked to Pidge with a faint smile. The teenager smiled back.

“My brother still doesn’t approve,” admitted Pidge.

“He’s always going to hate me, isn’t he?”

“He doesn’t hate you. It’s just . . .” Pidge shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s just over-protective, and – honestly – I can totally get that, because we went through hell in that house. I’m still stuck in therapy twice a week, just like I still get nightmares, but it doesn’t seem to get any easier, you know? I mean I _know_ it’s getting easier, but it doesn’t _feel_ it’s easier.”

“Yeah, I heard Keith’s struggling pretty bad,” mumbled Lance. “I overheard Hunk and Shay talking one night; they said Coran went to check on Keith one night, only he found him naked on bed, because – yeah – he kind of thought that’s what Coran would have wanted.”

“Keith’s pretty messed up, like you wouldn’t believe. Matt let me keep in touch with him, said it’d help me to have one constant in my life, and Coran and Allura thought it’d do him good to have someone that understands, but . . . yeah . . . he has to wear these gloves because he hates being touched. I’ve seen him really isolate himself, plus he never really emotes, and he’s like this total robot. Shiro was his brother, too, so it’s all . . . complicated.”

“Did Shiro ever keep in touch with him? With you?”

“No, they intercepted all our letters.”

Lance sighed and moved back against the bed. He pressed his back to the wall, where he looked up at the ceiling and almost missed the glow-in-the-dark stars, but instead saw tacked-on posters of Einstein or faraway galaxies or cartoon lions. Pidge touched his shoulder and squeezed, before she slid next to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his, before reaching down to clasp his hand in both of hers hands. He smiled to feel a head against his shoulder, only to blink away tears and release a shuddered breath. Lance said:

“Hunk and Shay never intercepted my messages.”

There was a quiet silence between them. Lance listened to the sounds of cars upon the road outside, while Matt could be heard from a far room arguing with someone at the Garrison, and Lance knew they would have to keep the noise down. He looked over to the photographs of Keith, where he saw just how much the twelve-year old looked like Shiro, with black hair and dark eyes, but the shape of his face remained the same throughout the years.

“What did he say?” Pidge asked.

“He asked if we knew he loved us,” muttered Lance. “He said if Matt loved you, he’d have taken you in the second your parents died, but only Shiro stepped up and provided a home, and that Keith is his blood and no one else knows him like Shiro. He said I was his favourite, but he can’t talk in detail as they read his messages. He asked me to write back.”

“He’s emotionally manipulating you.” Pidge squeezed his hand. “He used to do that to us all the time, like telling us we were good and giving us presents for being obedient, or being rough or forcing it when we were disobedient. It’s messed up. Ignore it.”

“I keep thinking how he filmed me and Keith. Our pictures are –”

“Any time they crop up, the police will pull them down.”

Lance shrugged, as he looked over to Pidge’s computer. It was impossible to explain how he needed to stop putting up photos on his social media, leaving his avatars to the default, because men would send him clips of his ‘movies’ or try to get personal information from him, and worse still to sometimes come across stills on porn sites. He knew those images would last forever, and _every fucking time_ it felt like he was being raped all over again, as he felt the eyes of every fucking voyeur over his naked body. He whispered:

“I just feel I don’t have anything left to give.”

Pidge reached up to place a kiss to his cheek, which caused his tear to finally fall, and – as it did – she kissed it away and returned to leaning her head upon his shoulder. He knew what she was thinking, as much as he was thinking it himself. There were far too many nights after leaving Shiro’s home that were spent with complete strangers, from random men outside of bars to fellow students from within his high-school. A wave of nausea overcame him.

They sat in a semi-comfortable silence, while he tried to ignore the past. He dreaded to think what would have happened to him, at least if Hunk and Shay hadn’t worked so hard to make him realise his worth was more than his body, and especially if Pidge had never remained his friend and later his girlfriend. The teenage girl had dealt with her past by abstaining from sex, while he had taken a more . . . promiscuous path. He was almost at lost for words when Pidge eventually opened her mouth and asked him in a quiet voice:

“Is that why you slept with every guy around?”

“Can we not get into that?”

“You were _such_ a flirt,” teased Pidge. “I didn’t think I stood a chance, because I didn’t want to give it up on the first date, and Matt _swore_ you weren’t up to monogamy. It’s been a year, but it’s worked out pretty good, right? You have a lot of love to give. If you hold that love back, you’re letting Shiro win and you’re better than that. Fuck him.”

“Hunk sent me to a therapist, too.” Lance blushed and sighed. “They said I still had a lot to give physically, like how Shiro would never know how it felt like for me to reciprocate or laugh with happiness or to smile with absolute love, but it’s still . . .”

“Wrong? Yeah, I know. I know, Lance.”

“Plus, what I did to Keith was fucking _wrong_.” Lance blinked away tears and added: “They won’t let me contact him, so I can’t apologise, but I didn’t know . . . _I didn’t know_! I knew it was wrong on some level, but I thought it was just what people did! It’s why I – like – I don’t know . . . it’s why I kind of slept around. I thought it was just . . . I don’t know . . .”

Pidge reached up with a free hand, still clutching his in her other, and gently turned his head to face hers, while her lips came up to coax his apart. He smiled, knowing that neither of them had ever kissed another person. It was an intimacy just theirs. Pidge gently progressed the kiss into something deeper, until a tongue entered his mouth and took total control, and he relished in giving up that same control to someone he totally trusted.

He was guided down to lie upon his back. He rested his head upon a pillow scented with perfume, while Pidge slid down her shorts and kicked them away, and – as he looked down at her private area – he swallowed hard and grew erect. The thatch of thick pubic hair looked perfect, hiding thick lips and a waiting hole, and he swore when she reached down to unbutton his trousers. They were soon pulled down, along with underwear, and dropped beside the bed, where his long and thin member was exposed to the air.

“Er, Pidge?” Lanced asked. “Katie?”

Katie pulled off her nightshirt. It revealed two perfectly rounded breasts, which were firm and high with perky nipples waiting to be licked, and he knew from experience how much she adored breast-play, sometimes nearly going all the way from sheer arousal. He wanted to run his hands over her body, but she guided her hands over to the spindles of the headrest instead and tied them in place with a stray scarf upon her bedside table. He swore in arousal, while the head of his erection bobbed upon his flat stomach. He bit into his lip.

“I think I’m ready,” said Katie.

“I – I really don’t want to force you to –”

“You can’t take what’s freely given.” Katie nipped at his lips. “Look, you’ve gone a whole year, right? We love each other and we want to be together, right? If you don’t want to – or if you change your mind – just say ‘stop’ and I’ll climb right off. Oh, you have contraception, right? We can’t do this unless you have contraception.”

“Y-Year, Hunk always makes me carry a rubber.”

“Perfect. Fish it out. Let’s do this.”

Lance whispered the words ‘jacket pocket’. Pidge fumbled around until she found it, but – as she clasped it between her teeth – pulled up his shirt and jacket until they bunched uncomfortably just above his nipples. He watched as she opened the condom with her teeth, breasts bouncing with the movements, and she sat astride him with one hand tracing his chest and tickling his nipples to add to his arousal, before stroking patterns on his stomach.

Katie pulled out the condom and held it between her lips, as she slid down his legs and bent down to place her mouth to the tip of his penis. There was a great expertise. They both knew that neither could abide the feeling of come, especially when – after their first time at oral – Katie broke down into sobs from a traumatic flashback, and so condoms became a staple in their relationship over the past few months. Katie usually provided them, having brought them about six months into their relationship ‘just in case’. He welcomed that.

That warm mouth worked its way down his length. It was hot and wet, although a little strange through the rubber, and he bit his lip to hold back a moan. He looked down through half-lidded eyes to see her pull back up and that the condom from properly applied, so that they wouldn’t risk any unwanted pregnancies or potential diseases, as – Lance was embarrassed to admit – he still was too fearful to get himself checked.

“I’ve always wondered what a woman felt like,” he whispered.

“That’s what you get for only sleeping with guys.”

“Hey, it’s not as though I felt I had a choice.” Lance licked at his lips. “Katie, I – okay – I mean it’s . . . this isn’t how I pictured our first time, but if anything goes wrong – or if anything doesn’t feel right – you just stop, okay? I fucked up too many times before. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re all I have left in this world. I love you.”

Katie blinked away tears of happiness. The young woman leaned down to press a kiss to his lips; he struggled at the scarf that held his hands together, desperate to touch her and hold her, but he saw the expression in her eyes and knew the bondage was for her benefit. Katie trusted him, but there was a small hint of apprehension behind those eyes and likely a lifetime of memories of being touched, something that she wouldn’t want to be reminded about during something so intimate and so filled with love. Lance smiled as she pulled away.

“I love you, too,” whispered Katie.

There was a silence between them, as their eyes met and they shared in the sweet intimacy that neither thought they would ever find, and Katie – as she carefully positioned his length beneath her – slowly sank down to the hilt. It amazed him how she found arousal enough to self-lubricate, especially without foreplay, but he knew that lately everything seemed to turn them on when they were together, and he was surprised their self-restraint led to only third-base being met. Katie paused once her clitoris pressed against his pubic bone.

It was unlike anything ever before experienced. Those insides weren’t ridged and impossibly tight, but instead smooth as silk and just enough of a grip to provide pleasure, something loose enough to be almost like oral sex and yet tight enough to give friction. He wasn’t sure which he preferred: the insides of a man or the insides of a woman. Lance tugged at his restraints and bit his lip to hold back a moan. Katie felt good.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” whispered Lance.

Katie slowly raised herself up, as she rested her hands flat on her chest. The rhythm she built was slow and steady, nothing like he recalled with past lovers or Shiro, and Lance closed his eyes and simply basked in the sensations, as if receiving a loving massage or a warm embrace. It felt good, but what felt better was simply being close to her. He knew he wouldn’t last long, especially as she let out small cries, but he relished every second.

“Call me ‘Katie’, okay?” Katie asked.

He opened his eyes and saw the young woman upon him. He saw the long locks of hair, as well as the modestly sized chest, and he remembered the ‘persona’ she’d been forced to live, as well as the name ‘Pidge’ that lingered even through the years. It nearly stole his erection from him, until he realised this was a fresh start. Katie moved up and down, until she brought her hands up to her chest and massaged her breasts, giving him a show that ignited his interest and forced him to think ‘bad’ thoughts to hold back his orgasm.

“Katie,” Lance whispered. “It’s me, Katie. It’s Lance.”

“Keep saying it, please . . .”

“It – It’s me. It’s Lance.” Lance moaned. “ _Oh fuck_ , you feel -! I – I love – I love you, Katie, and – and I – I swear I’ll always protect you. You’re – You’re Katie . . . _ooh, that’s good_ . . . you’re Katie Holt and you’re with me, Lance, and I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you.”

Katie cried out. It was almost silent, as she threw back her head and her hands clenched upon her chest a littler tighter, and – as her mouth opened wide and her eyes rolled back – those inner walls clenched down upon him and he came hard and fast. He was no longer embarrassed at the drool in the corner of his mouth, as he choked back saliva and opened his mouth wide, and he knew his brown skin would be flushed all the darker, and yet the pleasure was so overwhelming that he could barely stand it. He gripped at the scarf.

There were ropes and ropes of come, so much that he worried the condom wouldn’t hold it all, but Katie stayed perched upon him until – after the fourth or fifth shot – his hips fell back against the bed and he was finally done. The scarf was undone, as he listened to his heart race and basked in the afterglow, and soon Katie was curled up beside him while he pulled her close and hugged her against him. Katie was warm and soft and so filled with love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” whispered Lance.

Katie laughed against him, as she tangled their legs together. He reached down to pull off the condom, which he tied off and placed on the bedside table, and – despite everything – he smiled and cried at how much like a ‘first’ this had become. Katie kissed away his tears, before she kissed his mouth long and deep. He was half-hard again when she pulled away and exposed tears of her own, before laughing warmly and kissing his nose.

“Likewise,” said Katie.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey, Keith! How are you?”

Lance stood and extended his hand. He looked to Keith with a smile, but the younger man – with a quirked eyebrow and hands shoved into his pockets – simply stared back. It forced Lance to pull back his hand with a frown; he fought back the urge to yell at Keith, especially when circumstances were awkward and tense, and instead through himself back into the leather armchair with folded arms and a serious pout across his face.

The coffee shop was filled to the brim with people, as the scent of coffee drifted through the air and provided a small comfort, and – from across the way – he saw that Coran sat in a far corner with a laptop before him and newspapers in his hands. He watched them from over the edge of the printed page. Lance softened his expression and sighed. He gnawed at his lip and waved to the sofa opposite him, just on the other side of the low table, and Keith paused before he even so much as looked in the direction of the sofa. He chose to stand.

It took thirty seconds before Keith sat down. He sat with legs apart and forearms upon his knees, while he hunched forward and glared Lance down, and Lance realised – looking over him with blue eyes – they really were from two different worlds. Keith wore fingerless gloves that revealed callused hands marked with oil, while he was covered head-to-toe in layered red-and-black fabrics, torn and stained in places. He looked a stereotype of a mechanic.

“Thanks for agreeing to come,” said Lance. “I mean it.”

“I’m only here because Pidge asked me.”

A waiter came over with a clear interest in Keith; he leaned into the younger man’s space, made direct eye contact, and spoke in soft tones with many questions, but Keith’s expression never changed and he never made any sign he so much as recognised the flirtations. Keith had styled his hair into a mullet, which was a style Shiro would never have approved, and – unlike Lance, who swore by various beauty products – his skin was rough and tanned. It was easy to see why the ‘bad boy’ meets ‘manly man’ would attract attention.

“Coffee,” muttered Keith. “Soy milk.”

“Grande, iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte for me. One-twenty degrees, extra foam.”

“Yeah, and extra spit,” said Keith with a roll of his eyes.

Lance glared daggers at Keith, but the waiter only obnoxiously giggled. He wandered off, throwing glances to Keith as if he stood a chance, while Lance drew in a deep breath and fought off the urge to start a fight over a comment so petty as that. The silence between them lingered and increased in awkwardness. He listened to the sounds of couples whispering loving compliments, as well as businessmen arguing over paperwork, and the students that laughed over phone screens at shared videos. He felt alone and apart from the crowd.

“So – er – how have you been?” Lance asked.

Keith sent glances across the shop floor to Coran, who nodded to him in acknowledgement, and – as he heaved a long sigh of breath – he dropped back in his armchair. There was a slither of skin from beneath the sleeve of his jacket, where Lance was half-certain he saw raised scars across Keith’s wrists, but he said nothing and looked away with a paled expression and watering eyes. He winced when Keith said in a low voice:

“Why do you care?”

“It’s been – what – nine years? Time flies.”

“Yeah. I bet it flies for you.” Keith rolled his eyes. “I just turned seventeen last week. I got expelled from the Garrison around the time they told me Shiro was getting released, so Dad rented me out a place in the dessert. I’m going to start work as a mechanic. Dad taught me the basics and Mom taught me the business side. That’s about it.”

“Hey, that’s something, right?” Lance forced a smile. “Pidge told me you’re pretty good with your hands. I get the feeling that she’s pretty proud of you; Pidge – _Katie_ , sorry – is going awesome at the Garrison, managed to get ace grades and passed every class, and her brother thinks she might be able to get a teaching job once she graduates. We’re – ah – planning to get married in a couple of years, once graduation is over. Same summer.”

“Yeah. Yeah . . . Katie told me. I – I’m pleased for you both. You were working as a cargo pilot, right? Katie said you changed over into engineering? It sounds like you’re both doing well. What was it like . . . living with Hunk and Shay? They treat you right?”

“Hunk was surprisingly strict, but Shay was a total softie.”

“That sounds like the reverse of Mom and Dad.”

Lance said nothing. He knew that Keith would have only been around eight when the social services came to take them away, while his mother died in childbirth and Shiro was the only family he had left, and it would have been natural to see Allura and Coran as his parents, but a part of him still felt betrayed and still felt jealous. Lance bit into his lip and looked to the tiled floor with a mixture of shame and confusion, until the waiter returned.

He placed down their orders of drinks, as he smiled over to Keith and waved. Keith jerked his head in response, while Lance memorised the name ‘Thace’ upon the nametag, and – as he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes – he noticed how Keith would subtly look in Thace’s direction with an almost half-smile. Lance threw away all plans to complain to Thace’s manager, at least if his attentions weren’t too unwanted. He instead looked back to Coran and gnawed at his lip. There was a pressing question he needed to ask:

“You get on well with your parents, huh?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” murmured Keith. “It’s not that I dislike you, but . . . I want to keep my past and present separate. It took a few years for the adoption to go through; I’ve not looked back for even a second since, even when my name changed and we moved house. It’s not like our biological dad was ever around and our mom died, so . . .”

“And does Coran know you got a thing for older men?” Lance teased, as he nodded over to Thace with a wink. “You know, I bet a therapist would have a _lot_ to say about that. I know Pidge’s came up with all sorts of crazy theories, but whatever helps, right?”

“If he is into me, he’ll be disappointed.” Keith shrugged. “I know you slept around, but I’m not like that. I’m not interested in anything sexual. I’m not saying I’ll always be that way . . . maybe in another five or ten years, just right now all I want is friendship and basic intimacy. I still have what happened in the back of my head. It’s like all these questions buzzing around like bees in my head, just waiting to sting me whenever I give them the time of day.”

“Okay, well, would it help if I answered any questions you’ve got?”

Keith looked up and blinked in surprise. He smiled in a way that worried Lance; it was sincere, sure, but it was the smile of a person who had been taught to mimic others, as if he were trying to concoct a ‘smile’ from the pages of a book or by copying what was observed in the world at large. It didn’t feel natural. Keith reached out for his coffee, before downing half the contents with no regard to the temperature. He said warmly:

“Yeah, that’d help a lot.”

Lance smiled back, as he sipped from his cup. He looked to his phone upon the table, where the customised case depicted professional photographs of Katie and his foster parents, merged together into a glorious collage. It was true he was lucky to have Hunk and Shay there to help guide him into basic therapy, into finding new outlets, and into becoming a better person that didn’t rely on his body to find worth, but he still envied Keith. Keith was Shiro’s favourite and Keith was now the one with real parents. Lance asked in a quiet voice:

“So what’s on your mind?”

“How did – How did they find out? Why’d it stop?”

“Oh, you mean why did social services come around?” Lance winced. “I thought Katie might have told you? It all happened pretty quickly, to be honest. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to you about it, because they dragged you out of there so fast.”

“No, Katie never said and neither did my parents.”

“Okay, well, it’s . . . complicated.” Lance scratched at his neck. “I was this _total_ flirt at school, so that I was always hitting on random girls and women, and I even flirted with the teachers, too. It was – I don’t know . . . it was weird. I’d freak out any time a girl reciprocated, totally afraid and not even knowing what to do, but I’d let guys take control and do whatever they pretty much wanted. They caught me with a substitute teacher.

“I was fourteen, I think? Shiro reacted a bit weird, which got them suspicious, but then the very next week I was groping another student and not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I thought ‘no’ was just what you said, especially because he was getting hard, so like . . . he had to like it, right? Well, it turns out that ‘no means no’, so they called me into the school office.

“It was really intimidating. I totally remember being screamed at by the principal, then having the boy’s parents come in to talk about pressing charges, and a teacher came in to act as a witness and tried to be like ‘oh, he’s just traumatised because of that sub’. I – I think that’s what made me snap. Like, I had sex toys buried deep in me while Shiro freaking came on my face for the Internet to see, but _that_ was supposed to be too traumatising?”

Lance looked to Keith. He showed no signs of acknowledgement, as if he were viewing the situation from outside of his body, but the glass was now clear of all liquid, despite it likely being scalding when presented to him. Keith kept the glass to his lips, biting and gnawing at it like it could somehow soothe him, and his fingers fidgeted at the handle with an absent touch. Lance admired him for his strength, but hated how he seemed to cope. It was difficult to understand how he could remain chaste or calm or even generally collected.

“So they called social services on you?” Keith asked.

“Nah, it was when I snapped and screamed: ‘so I’m not allowed to flirt with a kid, but Shiro’s allowed to fuck me on camera every night’? That apparently sealed it.” Lance smiled and shrugged. “I just snapped. I remember thinking that if it _was_ normal then they wouldn’t care, so I wouldn’t be in trouble, and if it _wasn’t_ normal then maybe they’d make it stop. They did make it stop. I spent what felt like years in the principal’s office, then they came.”

“That’s . . . a lot to process.” Keith placed his glass back upon the table. “I never thought you’d be the one to snap. You always said I was Shiro’s favourite, but you were the only one he never actually raped. It didn’t take him long to fuck me. I know he fucked Pidge. I don’t know why he didn’t rape you, too, but you were . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Lucky? Funny, I never felt lucky.”

Lance winced to remember the ‘extra special’ videos. He still couldn’t find the strength to admit to being forced to do things with Gunther, too ashamed to tell even Katie, and – as much as he knew it wasn’t his fault – it was easier to pretend that ‘no one’ had raped him meant that ‘ _nothing_ ’ had raped him. Lance fidgeted in his chair, as he paled and swallowed hard, while a dizzy spell threatened to overcome him. The memories of fur and sex toys and cameras nearly made him overlook what Keith let slip. Lance whispered:

“I didn't think he made much of a habit out of . . . you know . . . raping you?”

Keith shrugged and put his glass on the saucer. The small porcelain was decorated with cocoa dust in the shape of a lion, while the napkin was decorated with what looked like a phone number, and – as Keith’s hands hovered – he took the napkin and screwed it up. Lance winched, until he saw Keith sigh and flatten it back out. The napkin was soon in his jacket pocket, where he turned with arms folded and legs crossed. He pouted.

It was a sign that there was still hope. Lance threw back his head and looked up at the chandeliers above his head, while he made a mental note to pay for Keith’s half, and – as he glanced over to the counter – Thace beamed with a mixture of arrogance and hope. Lance pursed his lips and debated whether to say anything, but instead looked to Keith and tried to observe him through new and fresh eyes. This was someone that he always assumed got out relatively unscathed, but apparently endured just as much as the rest. Keith asked:

“It was pretty regular. He even let guys other than you join in. Didn’t you know?”

“No.” Lance paused and winced. "Yes? I don't know. My memory gets hazy and I think I just . . . forgot some things. I had to forget. I don't know."

“Huh.” Keith looked over to Coran with a sigh. “You knew he was abusing me, so you decided to make my life worse by raping me for two weeks straight? That’s what messed me up most. We were in the same boat. You _understood_ me. You knew what it was like to have Shiro fucking your face until you choked, but you still . . . you _raped_ me, Lance.”

“I – I don’t know what to say, Keith! I don’t know why I did it. I still don’t know! I sometimes think it was because I was trying to make you feel better, in the only way I knew how, and I just wanted you to feel _good_ , but then I also knew how angry I was and how it felt good to _finally_ not be the one made to do those things. I hated you, too. I still do. I mean, I love you, but I hate how you’re always doing so much better than me and –”

“Forget it. You can’t ever make it better.”

“I know you won’t ever forgive me, and maybe we’ll always be rivals, but Katie _really_ wants you to be at our wedding, so . . . what can I do to make it better? I – I did stop, once I realised what it was doing to you, and I hated seeing you withdraw and hated seeing you afraid to talk to me and -! I thought stopping might make it go away, but it didn’t.”

Keith rolled his eyes and stood up. Lance followed suit and reached out to him, but he backed away a few steps and nearly tripped over the sofa. It was difficult to apologise; Coran was at once packing up his laptop and paper, as he ran over with the handle of the laptop-bag dangling over the crook of his arm, and he reached out to place two gloved hands upon Keith’s shoulders to hold him steady in his moment of panic. Lance wondered whether the gloves were a part of Altean culture, or if they were for Keith’s benefit. Keith spat:

“Look, I’ll come to the wedding, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Okay, and I _swear_ I’ll never hurt Katie,” promised Lance.

“And will you promise to stay out of my life?” Keith asked. “I already took out a restraining order on Shiro, although part of his release conditions is not to contact me, and I’d really not rather go down the route of getting an order against you, too. You know someone sent me a link online once? It was you fucking me. It was like being fucked all over again.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling. There’s a lot of creeps out there.”

“Okay, so this is it? We’re done?”

Lance looked to Coran and saw tears in violet eyes, while Keith hunched over like a small child seeking reassurance, and his heart raced violently in his chest to know that _he_ did that to Keith. He was the one to break him. He was the one to rape him. Lance made to reach out once more, out of instinct alone to comfort his friend, but Coran raised a hand in warning and he backed off a few steps in turn. The disappointment overwhelmed him, as he realised their relationship was destroyed for good. Lance looked down and whispered:

“Yeah, we’re done.”

 


	11. Epilogue: Keith

##  Epilogue: Keith

“Are you up, my boy?”

Coran knocked upon the bedroom door. The castle was situated not far from the Garrison and the desert, while the interior still held many remnants and memories of their past lives, but in this corridor – in this room – they had incorporated as much of Earth culture as possible. He bought maps of the stars and the globe, which lined the walls in expensive frames, while Allura bought many standing and hanging plants, that let loose exquisite scents.

He was particularly proud of Keith’s room. Coran made sure to paint every inch a beautiful shade of blue, something he was told was a colour for ‘boys’, although the idea of segregating colours according to gender was an alien concept to him, and upon the wall hung a hammock filled with action figures and plush toys. Piles of DVDs and building blocks surrounded the play mat on the floor, while all sorts of attire stuffed the closets to breaking point, including everything from tuxedos to swimwear. It should have helped Keith.

There was silence inside the bedroom, which worried Coran. He twiddled his moustache out of a nervous habit, while he looked down the corridor to see the doors to his bedroom thrown wide, while the melodious voice of Allura drifted through the air. Coran smiled, but wondered whether a music player should be added to Keith’s room. It might help provide a small comfort and ease some of the uncomfortable tension. Coran sighed.

“Right, well – ah – I’m coming in. Ready or not -!”

Coran opened the door. The room was dark, so that he needed time to adjust, but – as he raised a hand to shield his eyes and blinked to clear his vision – he saw that Keith was sat cross-legged upon his bed. He smiled and walked into the room, navigating the mess of toys and games and books, realising that perhaps they had gone a little overboard in trying to make Keith feel better and soothe the pain of his former abuse.

He placed a hand on his hip, as he smiled wide and made to tuck Keith into bed. It was a cool night, much like ones he remembered back on Altea as a child, and he remembered well how his grandfather would tell him of ancient legends until he would fall asleep. Coran opened his mouth to speak, only to finally see Keith in his entirety. The boy was naked. Coran’s heart sank into his stomach, as he blushed a deep red and tried to keep his eyes very high above Keith’s head, and – unsure how to react – folded his eyes and took a step back.

“Ah, why aren’t you wearing your night-clothes, lad?”

Keith blinked a few times and raised an eyebrow. It was a surprisingly mature reaction, one that spoke of complete disbelief and perhaps contempt, but one that was so out of place on a child of his age that Coran made a mental note to watch his expressions around Keith. He wondered whether the child emulated those around him, whether out of survival or instinct. It was heart breaking to see how Keith changed his position to sit with legs parted, as he arched his back and cocked his head to the side, and Coran rushed across the room to find a blanket.

“How about we wrap you up, eh?”

“Don’t you want to do stuff?” Keith asked. “Shiro wanted to do stuff.”

Coran drew in a staggered breath. He forced a smile, even as he blinked away tears, and came to kneel before Keith with the blanket outstretched. It was gently wrapped around that small body, layered like a cocoon, and he guided Keith down against crisp and clean blue sheets, where the boy furrowed his brow in confusion and stared hard at Coran. He simply leaned down to place a chaste kiss to that forehead, before he pulled away with a sigh.

“Did they tell you what Shiro did was bad?”

“Yeah,” said Keith. “They said that he shouldn’t have touched me, but Shiro said that’s what you do when you love someone. He used to get angry when I fought back. They made Lance beat me whenever I struggled, so I stopped struggling, and that made them happy. I won’t fight if you want to do stuff. I don’t want it to hurt. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Keith, you need to listen to me very carefully, okay?” Coran forced a smile and winked. “There are certain places on our bodies that we _only_ show to certain people, but a child should _never_ show them to anyone. _Never_. If you _need_ to show someone, like a doctor, you must _always_ have someone else with you to make sure they don’t ever touch you like Shiro touched you. No one – _no one_ – must see you like that. No one.”

“I don’t understand! Shiro was my brother. He said it’s how we show love, because it makes each other feel good, and you’ve been nice to me today, so I’m supposed to make you feel good! If I don’t, I’m bad. I don’t want to be bad. I want to be good.”

“It’s your first night here, Keith, but we don’t do those things.”

There was a sound from outside the door; Coran turned his head to see Allura leaning against the doorframe, but her blue eyes will covered with a sheen of unshed tears, which she pushed away with a gloved hand. Allura looked beautiful with her hair long and loose, even as her dark skin paled at the conversation, and he admired how the nightdress clung to her perfectly shaped body. He understood her pain. The idea that anyone could abuse a child in such a manner was enough to make his blood boil. He forced out in a patient voice:

“If you want me to feel good, why don’t you smile?”

“You want me to _smile_?” Keith asked.

“I sure do!” Coran beamed bright. “If you smile, it means that you’re happy! That’s all I want for you, Keith. I just want for you to be happy; your private places are _just_ for someone you love very much, once you’re all grown up and as big as me, and – until then – you should keep them covered up, but _never_ cover up your smile! Your smile is for everyone.”

There was a twitch at Keith’s mouth. It looked like the start of a smile, but then – as the boy looked over his shoulder – he suddenly burst out into laughter and doubled over. He would hide his face and go quiet, only to look back and laugh again, and Coran followed his gaze to see Allura pulling faces most unbecoming for a princess. Coran laughed in turn and reached out to ruffle the black hair of the small boy, while he reached down for the drawers under the bed, so he could pull out pyjamas covered with red lions.

“I’m still not sleepy,” said Keith.

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” chirped Coran. “How about a story?”

He slowly slid the blanket down to Keith’s waist, before he helped the boy into the pyjama top and did the buttons up from top to bottom. Allura came over and took the blanket, so she could hold it up like a makeshift wall between man and child, and – as Coran handed the pyjama bottoms over the ‘wall’ – a small hand took them and dressed in full. Allura threw the blanket over Keith, who laughed and struggled to find his way back out to fresh air, and was tucked in with many kisses to his cheeks. Keith said through his laughter:

“No one’s read me a story before.”

Coran cried in earnest.

* * *

Allura hummed while she cooked.

It was usually Coran who prepared the main meals, but – after a few mornings of Keith poking at ‘slime’ or retching at ‘garbage’ – Allura decided to take charge. The Earthling cookbook sat propped up to one side; it contained recipes for basic things such as eggs and toast, while more complicated recipes sat towards the opposite end, and she sighed as she looked down to her apron now covered in grease and flour and various stains.

Keith sat on a stool opposite the breakfast bar, always unwilling to eat at the dining table, while Coran fretted with his every movement. If Keith so much as leaned forward, he would jerk towards him and throw out his hands as if to catch him, and Allura could only giggle behind a gloved hand at how protective Coran was over the young boy. The empty plate before Keith still awaited some form of sustenance, and – as Allura wiped her forehead with her arm – she reached out to drop an omelette in front of Keith.

“There we are, my love,” said Allura.

Keith frowned and poked at the omelette. It was a little brown in places, while a little runny in others, but Allura clasped her hands together – spatula between them – proud of her creation from a whole morning’s worth of work. The little boy sniffed and looked around, just as uninterested in the meal as he had been with the Altean cuisine since his arrival, and Allura felt her heart sink at the idea it still wasn’t enough. Keith said in a low voice:

“I want cake.”

“That took a wee bit of effort to make, lad,” chided Coran. “You need to say ‘thank you’ when someone does something nice for you, and you need to say ‘sorry’ when you do something that makes them feel bad. We don’t eat cake for breakfast here.”

“Can I get cake if I blow you? That’s what Shiro did.”

“N-No, son. Remember that’s a ‘bad touch’.”

Allura blinked away her tears. The confusion on Keith’s face said all she needed to know, and – as she shared a look with her husband – she made a mental note to contact the social services for recommendation of a therapist. It was difficult to look at Keith and realise that the past year had distorted his view of right and wrong, but – with time and love – she knew he could go from ‘victim’ to ‘survivor’. Allura smiled down upon him.

The young boy avoided his food, even as Coran took the knife and fork to cut it into smaller pieces, and – as Coran lifted a piece for a bite – Keith’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, as if personally offended someone would eat _his_ food. Coran gave a loud ‘here comes the choo-choo train’ and lifted a bite into Keith’s mouth, who pulled away with a look of surprise that was unlike anything Allura had seen in her life. It was adorable, especially the way Keith chewed and then smiled, as if he truly liked what she cooked. Allura asked:

“How would you feel about seeing a special doctor?”

Keith reached out to take the fork from Coran; he ate with a slow speed, as he savoured every bite, and – at the very least – she knew he had not been starved or neglected, but somehow that was a bittersweet revelation when she knew the abuse he endured. The various reports were extremely detailed, while social services were very extensive in their meetings with them, and they both knew that Keith would likely forever live with the trauma.

“You won’t leave me alone with him?” Keith asked.

“We will sit with you,” said Allura. “I swear.”

There was a murmur from Keith, who looked between them. He continued to eat, while Coran sighed and let a hand hover a few inches behind his back, in case he fell or lost balance or decided to jump down, but Keith seemed perfectly safe perched upon his stool. Allura wondered what else Keith might like to eat, or drink alongside his breakfast, and – in the ensuing silence – poured a cold glass of milk, which she slid to him with a smile. He took it and sniffed, then slid it back and shook his head. Allura sighed, until he said:

“Okay, just so long as you never leave me.”

* * * 

“Surprise,” chirped Coran.

Keith let go of Allura’s hand with a smile. He stepped into the lounge with a bright grin, as he looked over the various decorations and mountain of presents, and Coran – as he sniffed and wiped away a tear – looked over to the small boy with a smile. Keith wore his fingerless gloves, given to him after they noticed his aversion to skin-to-skin contact, and a short jacket that was short enough not to overwhelm him with too much stimulus.

He bounced on the heels of his feet, before he stilled and affected a more stoic façade, but his smile remained and he looked to Coran with great affection. It was still difficult – even after all those years – to master the art of ‘birthday decorations’, but Coran had spoken to other parents and consulted many books and scoured the Internet for suggestions, so that the lounge looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. There were banners and streamers and confetti, while tables were lined with buffets and meals and desserts. It was plenty.

Keith ran over to him, now quite tall and still slender, and – with a bright smile – reached up to put a hand upon Coran’s shoulder, where he squeezed with warmth. He wasn’t really one for hugging, although it did happen on rare occasion, but somehow Keith had learned to share in small touches to instead show his appreciation and affection. Coran reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder in turn, before Keith ran across the empty room to the main tables.

“Doesn’t this seem a bit much?” Allura asked.

There was music playing low over the stereo. Allura hummed along for a few bars, as she came close to her husband and took his hand in hers, and – the older Keith grew – the more they strove to constantly show appropriate affection. Coran feared that their son would become too afraid of intimacy, while Allura thought it a good idea to show him that not all physical touches had to lead to something sexual. He hoped it helped.

“You only turn twelve once,” chirped Coran.

Allura sighed and wrapped her arms around his, as she leaned her head upon his shoulder, and – as he breathed deep – he caught the scent of her shampoo and perfume, which led him to smile and nuzzle against her thick hair. He looked over to Keith, who began tearing open his presents with a great sense of appreciation. They made sure only to reward him for good behaviour or on special occasions, wanting to break previous associations . . .

Keith looked genuinely happy. There were stacks of books upon science and engineering and mathematics, while video games sat next to various board games, and Coran winced a little to think that they may have gone overboard. He looked to his watch; it was too early for Katie to arrive, while the few available Paladins wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and Coran enjoyed the few moments of quiet with his family. Even with just a handful of extra people, Keith would be exhausted and drained by the time the night was over.

“How was therapy?” Coran asked.

“Oh, they say he may have something called Autistic Spectrum Disorder,” said Allura. “It appears that he may have exhibited symptoms for some time, but - due to Shiro's neglect - they may have been overlooked. I was most concerned this it was a result of the abuse endured, but they assured me this is something that will have been an issue since birth, and that it is nothing dangerous or debilitating. It will, however, require some social and speech therapy to help him to cope and adjust. They say it is simply a condition in which some humans think differently to others? I have yet to ask for more details.”

“Hmm, I think I’ve heard a wee bit about that.” Coran smiled and shrugged. “If that’s the very worst thing they can say, we’re certainly the luckiest parents on Earth. Is he okay, though? I worry about the poor chap. Those nightmares are something terrible.”

“Nothing new, I’m afraid. They say it may be good to place him into some groups, such as the Scouts, so that he can build more friendships and grow less isolated, and that we should take him out more and make sure to interact with him often. He still fears intimacy and despises physical contact. They say he otherwise seems well-adjusted; they are pleased he is so confident, just as they are happy he is so comfortable at home.”

Coran held Allura close to him. Keith was still so stoic and reserved, but he knew how to smile and was loyal to a fault, and Coran admired the young man that his boy was growing into, even if that man carried so much pain upon his shoulders. The music played about the room, as Coran stroked Allura’s hair and watched as Keith lay down on the ground and rolled onto his back, and – with a smile – opened up a book with diagrams of the stars, in seeming hope of finding the planet where his Galra parent once came. Coran asked:

“Does he seem happy to you?”

It was good to be a part of a family unit, but – after having lost everyone – there was a constant fear of losing Keith, too, and every minute he looked to his son was filled with a never-ending sense of dread and a huge weight of responsibility. He swore to always protect Keith and to never allow harm to befall him again. Allura hummed and pulled away slightly, as she pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled over to their son.

“Why don’t we ask him?” Allura suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Coran agreed.

* * *

Keith kicked at the table.

He folded his arms and avoided their gazes; it was a warm day outside, so that light streamed in through the windows and warmed the various surfaces, and – as much as he enjoyed the warm sensations – his heart raced and his blood ran cold. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Keith kept everything inside and sat up straight in his chair, even as he kicked at the table legs and watched the condiments on top shudder and vibrate with the action.

Allura sat opposite him with the four mice playing before her, while she warmed her hands upon a hot mug of coffee, but he looked away again in shame and fear. He listened to Coran on the phone not far away, as he argued with Iverson and spoke loudly enough to hurt Keith’s ears, and he saw how red in the face his father looked. Keith gnawed at his lip and tried to fight away all the conflicting emotions, as he grew somewhat dizzy and light-headed, until there was nothing left to do except to face the music. He looked to his mother.

“Oh, Keith,” said Allura. “Expulsion?”

Keith shrugged. He looked over to Coran who slammed down the phone; the older man folded his arms and turned to look at Keith, but his expression was harsh and his eyes were narrowed, and Keith hadn’t seen him so angry since the time he set fire to the kitchen. It intimidated him to see him walk into the kitchen, especially when his mind was so clouded and memories buzzed around like hornets waiting to sting him, and he looked down to his hands where he half-expected to see the purple of Galra fur.

“I punched Iverson,” muttered Keith.

“Yes, but I do not understand why you would act in such a manner.”

Allura patted the seat beside her, which Coran took with a loud huff. The two of them interlocked hands, while Allura nursed her drink and allowed the quiet to continue, and – grateful for the chance to collect his thoughts – he pursed his lips and blinked away tears. It was still bright out, so that he was able to stare at the sun outside and feel his eyes burned with the afterimages of that distant star. He fidgeted and shrugged his shoulders, before he looked to his parents and realised that he would have to be honest.

“He said I was the best student he had.”

“Hardly an insult, lad,” said Coran.

“He said I was the best student since _Shiro_ taught at the academy.”

Coran paled and looked down to the table. The way he slumped his shoulders spoke volumes of his levels of empathy, but he forced a smile and reached out a hand towards Keith, which – even if it wouldn’t be taken – reassured Keith that there was always parental support. Keith looked to the hand and was tempted to take it, but the very idea of touching another person made his blood run cold, especially with so many memories right at the surface. He drew in a shuddered breath and blinked away tears, as Coran said in a quiet voice:

“Ah, Iverson did mention his slip of the tongue.”

“It – It wouldn’t have bothered me,” admitted Keith. “I’ve had enough therapy to know that I’m not necessarily going to _become_ Shiro, and my Galra heritage doesn’t define me or make me a monster by default, but . . . I – I know Shiro’s getting released next month.”

“Oh, my love,” whispered Allura. “I am sorry. We meant to tell you, but –”

“No, I get it. I wouldn’t have told me, either.”

Keith threw back his head. He looked up at the ceiling and remembered the glow-in-the-dark stickers from his bedroom, where he would count the stars and try to form patterns, as he sought to distance himself from what Lance or Shiro did to him. He remembered how – even years later – the sight of those stars in any kind of context would cause violent panic attacks, and how weak and vulnerable he felt each and every time. He hated those memories.

It took years to stop blaming himself. Even now he asked questions, knowing only Shiro could answer them, and loathing himself for even considering communication with the man that so deeply betrayed him. He struggled to watch any show that featured abuse, where even the word would make him cringe and feel self-conscious, and now that same man – the man that broke him and wounded him – would be released onto the streets. Keith swallowed hard, afraid that Shiro would do this to another. Coran said in a quiet voice:

“Well, we can find you work elsewhere.”

Keith sighed and ran a hand over his face. He looked back to Coran and saw that the older man was deeply concerned; the lines on his face deepened, while his face drained of colour, and he leaned forward and angled his body toward Keith. It brought a small smile to Keith’s face, just to know he was loved, and he looked to Allura and saw her blink away a few stray tears, as she smiled and reached out to him in turn. A soft hand stroked at his arm, before it pulled back and was clasped to her chest as if to protect her heart.

“Yeah?” Keith asked. “What can I do that no one else can?”

“You can work as a mechanic,” chirped Allura. “We will help you!”

“Of course!” Coran clicked his fingers. “We can buy you a small place nearby. You could set up your own business, maybe fixing up bikes and cars and equipment. I know you had your heart set upon the Garrison, but a little self-sufficiency never hurt anyone, eh?”

“Thanks, guys. I mean it. I just . . . I can’t get Shiro out my head.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Keith sighed. He thought to life as a mechanic, already thinking to a shack out in the desert that would be perfect for both the local town and the Garrison, and wondering – if he planned ahead – whether he could gather business from both. It was a far cry from what Shiro wanted for him; plans of exploring the stars together, meeting the other Paladins, and seeing the universe that inspired the cartoons he so loved as a child. He wondered whether Shiro would be proud or disappointed in him, and he wondered one other thing:

“Should I be sad or happy he’s getting released?”

“No one can tell you how to feel,” whispered Allura.

“I – I love him,” said Keith. “I _hate_ myself for saying that, because he hurt me more than anyone in my life . . . even Lance . . . I hate that he took from me things that I’ll never get back, and that he messed up all my future relationships, and that he put his interests before my welfare. He was supposed to love me and protect me, but he abused me and broke all trust between us. I should hate him, but I don’t. I just don’t. I don’t forgive him, though . . .

“Do – Do you know I used to give into him? I didn’t at first . . . maybe I should have kept fighting him, maybe I should have resisted more . . . I don’t know. The therapist says I didn’t ask for it, but – even if I did – he was still at fault, but it’s just . . . giving in was the only way I knew to make the pain less and to actually get something from it . . .”

“Keith, he will _never_ hurt you again,” swore Allura.

“I know that, honestly. It’s just I know he’s _out there_ , and it freaks me out more than I can put into words! What if I run into him? What if we shop in the same places? What if he sends a message or phones or emails? I – I never wanted what he did to me, but did I make that known enough to him? Did he think I wanted it? Then – Then Iverson compares me to him and I just -! No. _No_! I’m not like him. I’m not . . . I’m not a monster.”

There was a heavy silence. Keith wept into his hands, as he lowered his head against the table, desperate to hide his tears from his parents, and Coran – with slow and gentle footsteps – came around him and shrugged off his jacket. The Altean fabric was draped over Keith’s shoulders, like a makeshift blanket, while he was guided onto his feet and pulled into a warm embrace, with rough hands rubbing circles upon his back. Coran hummed some old tune, one from their home planet, and Keith slowly ceased to sob. It comforted him.

“Come on, lad. You need some rest.”

* * *

“It’s okay, Keith,” said Thace.

Keith murmured a non-committal response. The shack in the desert had become home over the years, with a board in the main room dedicated to charting the lives of the Paladins, where he would immerse himself in the history and culture of an entire universe. Thace – after gradually moving in more and more personal possessions – promised to take him to his home-planet one day to visit, so he could learn more about himself in the process.

The wall was lined with family photographs; Thace would sometimes tease that it was a good job they weren’t sexually intimate, as it would be impossible to consummate a relationship with Coran’s eyes forever upon him, but it felt good to be always watched over by his parents and friends. They came by every weekend. Allura would stock the freezer full with homemade meals and locally sourced ingredients, while Coran would deliver another lecture to Thace about protecting his boy. It was home. Thace said in a whisper:

“Your recovery is a marathon, not a sprint.”

Keith sighed and rolled over onto his back. He enjoyed how his head felt upon Thace’s lap, while the older man traced patterns through his hair with his claws, and it was a small intimacy that would have been impossible when they first met in that café two years previous. It was a huge accomplishment. Keith was proud to be able to enjoy those small touches, sometimes even pecks upon his cheeks or lingering hugs, but he knew that most of his peers had already gone most – if not all – of the way with sometimes multiple people. Keith said:

“Yeah, but everyone else is so far ahead of me . . .”

“They simply recovered at different times.”

“I – I still feel like a victim.” Keith gave a shuddered breath. “I want to know how they went from victims to survivors, but Katie said it was just time and patience. Still, they’re getting married next week and are expecting their first child, and I’m -? I’m this nineteen-year old that still can’t even get past first base. What if we want kids later on?”

“If we want children, but you do not wish for physical intimacy, we can always adopt as you were yourself adopted. If we wish for natural children, we can use artificial insemination in order that I can carry our child for you. Do not worry yourself.”

“Yeah, but . . . don’t you want sex at some point?”

“I just wish for you to be happy.”

Thace pressed two fingers from his free hand to his mouth, and then moved to press those same fingers to Keith’s lips, so that they shared an indirect kiss. Keith smiled and lightly kissed at those fingertips, before he blushed and looked away with a frown, and he fought away images of suckling on Shiro’s fingers with images of Thace awakening him with freshly baked bread and a smile. He listened as Thace again whispered:

“You are happy, are you not?”

Keith paused and pursed his lips.

“Yeah,” said Keith. “I guess?”

Thace laughed, as he resumed stroking Keith’s hair. It was a relaxing touch, which eased his eyes closed and helped to still his heart, and he hummed to himself at thoughts of a future spent with an equal and a beloved. He smiled and opened his eyes to look up at a Galra face, nearly laughing when he remembered Allura’s reaction when he first brought Thace home, and – as he reached up to stroke at Thace’s cheek – Thace nuzzled into his hold and smiled in turn, before placing a kiss to the inside of his palm with half-closed eyes.

“Well, that is a start,” said Thace.

“What do you mean? I said I’m happy.”

“You’re unsure.” Thace smiled. “In time, with love and therapy, you will _know_ whether you are happy for certain. On that day, when you are finally ready . . . maybe it will be your turn to receive a proposal. I will wait until the end of time for you, Keith.”

Thace took Keith’s hand away from his face, in order to turn it to place a chivalrous kiss to the back of his hand, and then – with a gentle gesture – place it upon Keith’s stomach, so that Keith could comfortably lie and be pampered by his partner. Those two hands stroked through his hair in unison, while they listened to the wind outside and the rain upon the windows, and Keith wondered whether he deserved such happiness.

“I love you,” whispered Keith.


	12. Epilogue: Lance

** Epilogue: Lance **

“Lance, I need you to sit down.”

Hunk folded his arms and looked over to Lance. The fourteen-year old was dressed in a way that looked far too provocative, with jeans a size too small and hung low enough to show his hips, while his t-shit was purposely shrunk to reveal every line of muscle. He left his arms bare and spiked his hair into the latest style, while there were rips sliced into the thighs of his jeans and around the nipple area of his t-shirt. Hunk didn’t want to judge, but . . .

He heaved a heavy sigh, as Lance threw himself into a chair opposite the table. The teenager pouted with pursed lips, while he stared off at a far wall in the immaculate kitchen, and Hunk noticed – as he followed the boy’s gaze – a stack of dirty dishes that would never have been allowed to stand before taking Lance into his home. There were also wrappers of junk food piled on top of the kitchen bin, despite the fresh ingredients that lined the pantry and refrigerator, and Hunk bit his lip to refrain from chastising the young man.

“Okay, so I know it’s just been a couple of weeks, but –”

“You kicking me out?” Lance asked.

“No, I’m not kicking you out,” said Hunk. “I know you were sent from home to home for a while, but – like – that’s _why_ I put our names forward to take you on. I’m going to _prove_ to you that you’re wanted and that you have a home, because you’re a good kid, Lance.”

Lance rolled his eyes. It brought another sigh from Hunk, who ran a hand over his face and moved to sit opposite the young man with a forced smile, and – as his eyes chanced to the calendar upon the refrigerator – he realised how difficult the past few months had been upon everyone involved. Lance came into their home a few days after Shiro was sentenced, after being passed from pillar to post for the duration of the trial. The trial itself was far from easy on him, with the cross-examination being particularly brutal.

Hunk was often exhausted, as most nights were spent listening to the cries of his foster son coming from the newly converted spare room, and a couple of days were even spent within the hospital getting some severe burns fixed up. Lance sat opposite him with no seeming shame for his body or his wounds. The various scars – parallel and lined along his forearm – stood out like markers of his pain and markers of the past. Hunk gnawed at his lip.

“Okay, so, like . . .” Hunk frowned. “I just –”

“Can this hurry up? I’m going out.”

“Yeah, about that?” Hunk narrowed his eyes upon Lance. “I’m going to overlook the fact that – you know – you’re totally ignoring curfew for now, because we’ve all got to adjust to this new living arrangement and we’re all got to learn to respect one another, but I’m _still_ acting as your guardian, so it’s my job to keep you safe. Hence the talk.”

“Okay, so – what – this is about where I go or something?” Lance shrugged. “Shiro never let me leave the house, dude. I just go out because I _can_ go out, and – yeah – I know that pissed the other foster parents off, but it’s not like I’m going to just stop being free.”

“No, but that’s not what I’m worried about. I know you’ve been hanging out around bars and clubs, and while I’m glad you’re not going inside . . . I know you’re picking up random men, which is kind of the problem. I’m not going to ask you to stop. I know you wouldn’t, just like I know you’re probably doing this for validation and to feel wanted, but . . . okay . . . it’s like . . . you _know_ your worth isn’t attached to what you’re willing to put out, right?”

Lance visibly flinched. He reached up with long fingers to scratch at his neck, while his blue eyes looked around with a nervous energy, and Hunk – wanting nothing more than to reach out and take the young man into a warm embrace – clenched his hands in his lap. Shay explained to him that it was best to lay off any physical intimacy, at least for a while, as Lance was conditioned to see any physical touch as a precursor to sexual acts, but at the same time . . . Hunk worried that approach would lead to touch starvation instead.

“I’ve booked you in for a therapist,” said Hunk.

Hunk counted to five. The loud cry of frustration caused him to wince, while he waited out Lance’s tantrum and screams of protestation, and – as Shay poked her head inside to check on them – he waved awkwardly to her and nodded in reassurance. Shay left with a shaky smile, but he heard how her footsteps stopped midway down the hallway, and he knew that she would be staying within earshot to make sure everything was okay.

There were tears in Lance’s eyes, which he blinked away with a pout. He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, although there was barely any give and it exposed his nipples beneath the rip, and Hunk blushed at seeing such an inappropriate sight. Hunk stared off at the kitchen window, where he looked out over the swimming pool in which Lance had previously threw an unauthorised party, and he wondered how someone who could flirt with every man and woman in sight could be so terrified of speaking to a medical professional. Lance yelled:

“Dude, I am _not_ going to a therapist!”

“Er, ‘dude’, you are,” said Hunk in a firm voice. “Like I said, I won’t stop you from having sex, because you’d only try to hide it from me. I need you to know that you can come to me for _anything_ ; I won’t judge you, I won’t punish you, and I only want to _help_ you. I’d rather you’d be having sex out of love or attraction, but I can’t force you to respect yourself.”

“I _do_ respect myself! It’s just that . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Hey, it’s okay, Lance. You’re fifteen in a few weeks, so there’s still plenty of time for you to work out what _you_ want from life and what _you_ think about yourself, and we have plenty of time to get you help and try to make you feel better. Don’t push yourself, okay? In the meantime, I have just one ground rule. _Never go to a second location with a guy_. If I hear you’ve gone to his house or got in his car, I’ll be pissed. You hear me?”

The blush said everything that Lance wouldn’t say aloud. Hunk clenched his hands into fists and ignored how his heart raced, as he took in a deep breath and strove to bite his tongue, but the idea that Lance could go somewhere with a guy – past curfew, with no one aware of who he was with or where he went – awoke a primal parental instinct in Hunk. He wanted to scream at Lance to have more commonsense. He wanted to lecture about gang rapes or abductions or even murders. He already opened his mouth when Lance interrupted:

“What can they take that I’m not willing to give?”

“Oh, Lance . . . doesn’t it worry you that they could take your life?”

Lance shrugged. He hung his head until chin touched his chest, and he fiddled with any fabric he could find within his reach, while Hunk look and saw the scars that marred his otherwise pristine brown skin and toned body. Hunk made a mental note to bring the issue up with the therapist the next day, as any words said would just be interpreted by Lance as empty platitudes. He instead swallowed hard and locked eyes with Lance, as he said:

“Okay, well, there’s also these, too.”

Hunk leaned down beneath the table, where he sat back up with a box. It was black and relatively small, but easily slid across the table to Lance, and – as the young man caught it in one hand – he turned it around at all angles to comprehend its contents. Lance’s face whitened, as he opened the box with a trembling hand and looked down at a variety of different sized and different styles of condoms. There were a couple of bottle of lubricant, too, as well as a leaflet on which rubbers didn’t suit which lubricants.

“What the fuck?” Lance asked. “I know how to use these already!”

“Great,” chirped Hunk. “You’ll know to _always_ use them, then. I want you to carry one with you every second of the day; put it in your wallet or back pocket, but just make sure you never ever let it out of your sight. At the minute, your worst regret will be maybe letting a guy use you like an object . . . without these, you might not be _able_ to regret anything.”

“I’ve been okay so far, right? It’s not like I let every guy go bareback, just the ones that are pretty nice and are friendly and –” Lance winced. “Okay, I see your point. I’ll use them from now on, okay? Can I go now? I really want to go now. This kind of sucks.”

“Nope! First I’m going to show you how to apply them.”

“You – I – what – how –?”

Hunk bent down again and revealed a cucumber. He remembered well enough how they were taught to apply condoms during sex education, and he was more than prepared to embarrass his foster son in hopes of keeping him as safe as possible. Lance dropped his head into his hands and groaned in a low voice, while Hunk made the cucumber dance and smiled at the carved smiley face on the ‘head’ also carved. The words ‘Mr Pee-Pee’ were written along the outside of the cucumber. Hunk signalled for Lance to hand him a condom and said:

“Get ready for _the_ most embarrassing talk of your life, kid!”

* * *

Lance looked down to the letter in his hand.

It was an old piece of paper with letters written in ink, and it briefly reminded Lance of something from a period piece or an old movie. He sat back on the armchair in the cosy living room and looked over to the sofa; Hunk and Shay were side-by-side, with Hunk lying across the soft cushions with his head upon her lap, while she used large hands to smooth patterns through his black locks of hair. They both watched him with concern.

He sighed and looked to the windowsill. The large bay windows overlooked the garden, which was still strewn with streamers and confetti from the sixteenth birthday thrown for him by his two parents, and he smiled to remember how Katie sneaked into the party without her brother knowing, just so she could wish him well. There were birthday cards lined up on the windowsill, along with a framed report card and a stack of engineering books, and there was a cuddly toy of the Blue Lion at the far end, given to him by Shay.

Coran had stopped by in person a few days previous, which was a huge honour as Lance had always longed to meet the other Paladins, and – while he wasn’t privy to the private conversations between Coran and Lance – he still beamed with pride at the nod and ‘hello’ Coran gave to him on the way back outside. The Red Paladin was as cool in person as he was in all the recorded interviews and battle videos. Lance smiled. This was home.

“So – er – what does Shiro say?” Hunk asked.

The smile soon left his face. Lance looked down at the words on the page, before he screwed up the paper and flung it across the room. It struck a photograph of Lance as a child, where he stood beside Keith and Katie, but the frame toppled over with the pressure and clattered back down upon the wooden shelf. Hunk sighed, as he forced himself up and picked up the litter, which was dropped into a nearby wastepaper basket, before he came back to sit beside Shay, who snuggled against him with her eyes upon Lance with a sad smile.

“It was not good news?” Shay asked.

“Did you guys know Sendak is pregnant?” Lance asked in turn.

Hunk visibly winced. He scratched at his neck and shrugged, before looking between Lance and Shay with a paled complexion, and Lance knew – without even needing to ask a second time – that Hunk was well aware of the situation. It shouldn’t have come as a shock. Hunk had worked as a prison guard since his return to Earth, where he wanted to continue to work alongside justice and protecting the universe, and in his spare time he volunteered by visiting various planets and working with those affected by the war. Lance breathed deep.

The wastepaper basket was still full. There must have been around thirty or so letters in the wire mesh, each one crumpled up and without a reply, and Lance once asked why Hunk left them there instead of removing them. He still remembered the answer: ‘I want it to be your choice’. Hunk wouldn’t dispose of them in case Lance wanted to keep them, but he also wouldn’t hide them from Lance who had a right to see them. Lance asked:

“Isn’t Sendak a guy?”

“All Galra are men,” muttered Hunk. “The only female Galra are always half-Galra. It means that they can – ah – get . . . pregnant. Shiro became Sendak’s bitch, basically, to stop himself from getting a raw deal among the prison population. It’s not a _great_ deal, because he’s still getting er . . . how do I put this . . . attention? Yeah, attention from Sendak.”

“You mean he’s letting Sendak rape him so no one else does?” Lance scoffed and shook his head with a smile. “Well, there’s some justice there, I guess. Still, are they in a relationship or something? What’s going to happen to the baby? Does Keith know about this?”

“Keith’s only ten, but I _think_ Allura said they plan on telling him.” Hunk heaved a sigh. “Look, Lance, I don’t honestly know. There is _no_ way they can keep the baby; even when they get released, they’ll both be on registers and probably restraining orders. Sendak has no family and Shiro only has Keith. Shay and I were going to sit down and talk to you about it, because we were thinking we might . . . adopt? It’s still pretty in the air, though.”

Lance collapsed back in the armchair. He looked up at the ceiling, where he followed the patterns in the plaster and tried to memorise the spirals, but – as he looked – he thought constantly to the idea of potentially having his rapist’s son living with them. It was difficult to blame an unborn child, especially when he thought back to his younger nieces and nephews and how he adored playing with them and teaching them, and he always regretted that he was passed to the Holt family home and then to Shiro’s home. Hunk whispered:

“Do you want me to get him to stop sending letters?”

Lance sighed and fell forward, where he forced a smile. He never resented his family, knowing they thought it better for him to stay in the States, and he never regretted Hunk and Shay allowing him the letters from Shiro, as they thought it would bring him closure. In truth, it actually did help to see in plain words the confessions from Shiro’s mind. Lance scratched at his neck and drew in a shuddered breath, as he said slowly:

“Nah, it actually kind of helps.”

“Is that right?” Shay asked. “I am glad.”

“Yeah, like, it’s hard to put into words.” Lance frowned. “I guess it’s just helpful to know what Shiro is thinking and feeling, to know his side of the situation, and it helps to compare that to the _reality_ of the situation. I know now it’s _his_ deal, like I never asked for it or wanted it, and each time he writes to me . . . I feel stronger each time. I know I’m making progress.”

“I will say that I am very proud of you,” said Shay. “I know how difficult those letters were at first, but now I see that you no longer allow yourself to be hurt by those words. If they help you to mark your progress, I see no harm in allowing them to be received.”

“Yeah, but . . . a baby? I can get Matt not wanting to adopt; he might be the best Green Paladin in existence, but he can barely look after Katie and he sucks at juggling work with home from what Katie says. I – I guess I’d be cool if you guys wanted to adopt it, but like why wouldn’t Coran and Allura adopt the baby? It’s Keith’s brother, right? Would you even trust me around it? I did . . . I did some fucked up shit, too.”

“You were a _child_ , Lance,” said Hunk. “You’ve had _therapy_. We even made you volunteer in shelters and take psychology courses and I think you know what’s right or wrong, but – if you have _any_ doubts or concerns – we’ll find another home for the baby.”

“I – I used to look after my nieces and nephews . . .”

Lance furrowed his brow. He moved his hand to his arm; the skin was now covered by a green jacket, one given to him by Shay for his birthday, and – while not ashamed of his scars – he fell into a pattern of covering them whenever possible. They were his scars to bear, as well as reminders that the past was real, and he always looked to them and knew that he could and would endure. He survived. Still, could he survive becoming the man he hated?

It was unlikely, as he knew it was wrong and always regretted his past, but he knew – for that brief couple of weeks – he hurt Keith in the worst possible way, and there was still a deep and dark fear that he would become Shiro. If he ever so much as a raised a hand to a child, he knew he would likely take his burns and cuts one step further . . . he wouldn’t be able to ever look himself in the mirror . . . still, he knew his fears were unfounded and he wanted a family again. He wanted to belong somewhere. He wanted to be loved. Lance thus asked:

“I don’t have to change any diapers, do I?”

Shay chuckled behind her hand.

* * * 

“Really? You’d want to date me?”

Lance smiled, as he clasped his hands before him. He sat cross-legged on the single bed, while he occasionally glanced to the scuffed bedroom door, but – so far – Matt seemed oblivious to his presence, even despite the constant conversation. The bedroom window was still broken, so a strong draught blew from the inch where it failed to meet wood. He shivered, only for Katie to roll her eyes and drape a blanket over his shoulders. Lance blushed and allowed her to crawl next to him, where she cuddled beside him. He asked:

“This isn’t a joke, right?”

Katie laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was good to be held; Shay and Hunk were quite physically affectionate, but both were so worried about crossing boundaries, while he still couldn’t work out whether it was platonic or sexual with other people. Katie was easier to read. Katie never expected anything in return, but just wanted to bond with him and reassure him and share in mutual love. He rested his hand upon her back.

He closed his eyes; it was a temptation almost to sleep, especially as her body was so warm and soft, and he knew she would keep him safe just as he would keep her safe in turn. It was difficult to sleep as of late. Rax – named after Shay’s brother – was a child with an extreme amount of energy, so that he would babble and cry and laugh throughout the night even though he was barely one year old. The child looked exceptionally like Shiro and Keith, even despite the Galra fur and ears, and he knew Keith would never want to see him.

Lance yawned, until Katie placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. He blushed and looked to the bedroom door, which was too broke to fully close, and heard a creak on the landing from a broken floorboard that Matt couldn’t afford to fix. Lance swore – the second he graduated – he would send money to Katie to help around the house, as he hated seeing someone he loved living in poverty while he had a comfortable and average kind of home.

“Nope, no joke,” chirped Katie.

“You know I’m a total flirt, right?” Lance asked. “Plus, I have a past. I – I couldn’t even _tell_ you how many guys that I slept with. I’m – I’m totally clean! I had the tests done, and I’ve always had protected sex since then, but you’re like this – this – this _goddess_! You’re smart and funny and pretty and I’m . . . I’m the guy that’s _barely_ getting into the Garrison.”

“Hey, don’t forget you’re also the guy with cripplingly low self-esteem.” Katie winked and smiled at him. “Look, I really like you. You always protected me when the abuse was bad, and you’ve phoned me every day since we went into care, then you visited me every week once Matt took me in, and – well – you’ve been a great friend. I trust you and I like you. If you’re not ready to be monogamous, I’m cool waiting for you.”

“I – I can totally do monogamous! I’ve actually not slept with anyone for like a year, unless you include this one guy I was fooling around with and this guy I made out with, but – ah – I didn’t know you were interested, I swear, else I’d have –”

“Gee, you really _do_ suck with women, huh?”

Katie elbowed him in his side with a laugh. He blushed and made to speak, until the family dog pranced in with its tail wagging behind, and – as it came over to the bed – he forced a hand over his mouth to hold back a loud cry of fear. Lance threw back the blanket and jumped on the bed, as he stumbled over to the far corner and pressed himself between the two walls. He held out his arms and bent low, ready to push away the dog should it come near, but Katie was already on her feet and pulling at its collar with a sigh. Lance begged:

“C-Can you send Bae-Bae away?”

Katie huffed in exertion, as she dragged the excited dog away. He recognised it as a puppy of Gunther’s, which they bred once the dog was returned to them, and still – even after all those years – he could feel how hard and wide the knot was inside him. Lance clenched instinctively, as pain shot through his behind despite everything being fine. He was still standing on the bed, too afraid to sit down, even as the dog was removed and Katie sat down.

“Huh? You’re still scared of dogs?”

“Y-Yeah, Shiro – Shiro used to . . .” Lance shook his head. “It doesn’t matter; I had it pretty easy compared to Keith, so I can’t complain. I just – I just _really_ don’t like dogs. I – I can’t – I can’t focus a-and I get these flashbacks and my heart goes fast and –”

“Hey. Hey! It’s okay. I’ve gotten rid of her.”

“T-Thanks, Katie.”

Katie kicked a box in front of the door, so Bae-Bae could only get her muzzle inside, and – soon getting bored – she huffed and ran away. Lance collapsed onto the bed, where he threw back his head and leaned against the headboard, but Katie only chuckled and crawled up beside him, where she draped the blanket over them and leaned against him. He held her closed, while he struggled to catch his breath. The small and soft noises she made comforted him, as his heart began to slow and his muscle relaxed, and she whispered to him:

“So about us maybe dating?”

There was a bark from the front door; Lance heard what sounded like Hunk’s voice, along with loud complaints from Matt, and he knew that – at any second – they would barge into Katie’s room and start looking for him to drag him home. He quickly placed a kiss to her cheek and ran to the window, which he pried open and climbed outside, but he leaned back in so that he could wink and give a v-sign with a smile, as he chirped:

“Do you even have to ask?”

* * * 

Shay smiled upon Lance.

He blushed and hid his face in his hands. The bed was in disarray, while Katie was fast asleep beside him with her head rested over his chest, and – as the young woman slept to the sounds of his beating heart – he cursed how at having left the door unlocked. The sheets were tangled about their waists and legs, providing some modesty, and Katie’s long hair covered her back and the sides of her breasts, but the scent of sex still hung heavy in the air.

Shay fussed about in the bedroom, mostly picking up and folding clothes, and – as he fought back a groan of embarrassment – he noticed that she tidied up Katie’s belongings in the process, which meant there really was no hiding the night before. There was confetti upon the floor, while a scratched CD repeated the same beat over and over upon the shelf, and a ‘congratulations’ banner half-fallen from his wall, as one end soaked itself in a half-drank glass of wine that was sneaked away from those of legal age. Shay hummed to herself.

“Er, what time is it?” Lance asked in a whisper.

Shay turned off the music player, as she opened the curtains. The bright light blasted through the closed windows, burning his eyes and making him flinch, and – as he cursed loudly – he held his arms around Katie and braced her from his movements. He settled quickly, as she groaned in complaint. There was no way she would stay asleep for long, but he gently adjusted her hair to shield her eyes and rested his hand upon her head, as he hoped that his forearm would block out the rest of the light. He sighed long and low.

“I am eighteen, you know,” muttered Lance.

“You will always be our little boy,” chastised Shay. “In any case, I do not object to your relationship with Katie. I find her a responsible and kind-hearted young lady, however we both know that she is still fifteen and Matt objects very much to your relationship.”

“It – It’s only been a few weeks.” Lance stared up at the ceiling and sighed. “We’ve been meaning to tell him, but I’ve been – like – insanely busy with the Garrison. Plus, Katie was worried he might put a stop to us being together or something, which would break her heart, and I’m . . . I’m here thinking about how gorgeous she’d look in a wedding dress.” Lance blushed. “It – It’s stupid, I know, but I don’t want it to end either.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” murmured Katie. “Idiot.”

Lance frowned, even as Katie looked up with blurred eyes. He saw the crust at the corner of those same eyes, while her hair was mussed and tangled, and there was a small dribble of drool from the corner of her mouth, and yet . . . she looked beautiful. Katie pulled herself up to place a chaste kiss to his lips, which he almost deepened despite Shay’s presence, and – as she pulled away with a small laugh – he blushed and licked at his lips. He tasted a hint of milk and honey, something from a late-night snack, and tears pricked at his eyes.

This was the woman with whom he would spend his life. Lance pressed a kiss to her forehead, as he whispered a quiet ‘I love you’, and watched as she wrapped the sheets about her body and stood to head to the bathroom. He noted how Katie avoided Shay’s eye, clearly too embarrassed to make eye-contact, before she expertly navigated the mess of books and toys and games strewn about his floor, before darting onto the landing out of sight.

Shay chuckled and sat at the edge of the bed. At the opposite end of the house, Lance heard Rax cry from the nursery at full volume. There was a yell of ‘I’ll get it’ and flustered footsteps, while Hunk saw to their son, and the sound of a shower ran from the bathroom adjacent to Lance’s room. Lance sat upright in bed; the scars on his arm were faded, with no new cuts or burns to take the place of the old, and his skin was a healthy brown from extended time outside and on training missions. He smiled to Shay.

“Hey, er, did I ever thank you?”

“Hmm?” Shay asked. “Why would you need to thank me?”

“I – I don’t think I’d be with Katie if it weren’t for you guys.” Lance blushed and shrugged. “I was pretty wild and sleeping about and I hated myself, but you guys gave me a home and some stability and some therapy and . . . and I guess I never realised how much I needed a family. I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for you, but I’m just . . . glad to be here.”

“We are glad to have you here, Lance. I fear you do not believe in yourself, even now. You are the sharpshooter that other cadets envy, as well as the young man with a heart that warms me in my darkest moments, and we are glad to call you our son. Be strong, my love.”

“So if I got Katie a promise ring, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is her birthday soon, is that right?”

Lance smiled and looked over to his bookcase. There – in a silver frame – was a photograph taken of Katie and Lance during their first real date, in an arcade where they could battle head-to-head on old consoles, and back when he still slipped up with ‘Pidge’ instead of ‘Katie’, forgetting that the identity Shiro forged for her ceased to exist. Katie had been growing out her hair for a while, but it was still shorter than now. The purple dress and lack of glasses suited her well, and he would always cherish those memories.

“Yeah,” Lance said. “She’ll be sixteen.”

Shay reached out to run a hand through his hair, while Hunk yelled out from Rax’s room, and soon the toddler was laughing so loud that Hunk laughed in turn, which became contagious as Lance and Shay laughed in turn. He slid down into bed and closed his eyes, while he listened to the sound of running water and Rax running about the nursery and shaking the baby-gates in a desperate need to escape. Shay broke the relative quiet with a soft whisper:

“Hunk and I will contribute some money.”

“N-No! I couldn’t. I mean I –”

“It is fine,” promised Shay. “It shall be our gift to Katie. If Katie can make you so happy, it will be our honour to bring her some happiness in turn. I simply ask that you continue to protect yourselves, as you are still too young for children.”

He laughed and looked to his bedroom door. Hunk must have let Rax out, as now he ran from bedroom to bedroom and shook on every baby-gate along the way, while Hunk groaned and complained and chased after him with muttered curses. He and Katie knew what they wanted from life, which was to graduate the Garrison and make solid careers for themselves, and he knew it was far too early for children, especially when Rax suddenly burst out into tears.

“Deal,” said Lance.

* * * 

“Katie, will you marry me?”

Katie looked to Lance with a smile. The tears ran down her face, as she saw her boyfriend of five years on one knee in front of their families. He looked handsome in his suit, which fitted him to perfection, and his face was paled with a faint fear of rejection, but – even as she paused to process events – she knew that this was her future. Those blue eyes were so filled with love and life, while the ring box in his hand looked almost as beautiful as him.

The tables were pushed together in the restaurant; Rax was silent for once, as his Galra ears perked up and his blue-grey eyes focussed wide upon them, and Matt actually ran a handkerchief over his nose in an attempt to hide tears. There was silence. Katie could stand it no longer, as she wept in earnest and threw herself into his arms. They were knocked onto the floor, where she embraced him with pearls of laughter, and kissed his cheeks over and over until they kissed in earnest and almost forgot they were in public. Katie teased:

“Lance, do you even need to ask?”

Lance cried with laughter.

* * *

Lance stood on the porch.

It was a warm day, enough that he dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt. The scars on his arm were faded almost from sight, only visible if one stared for long, and the children laughed and screamed and played well together in the garden. Colleen and Samuel fought almost continuously, enough that some nights he’d be woken to loud screams, and it almost made him feel sorry for Shiro on those days, as it reminded him too much of him and Keith.

Those days were always the hardest. Lance would admit that some nights he crashed at Hunk and Shay’s, too afraid to go home lest he snap or run away, and devastatingly terrified of ever becoming the man he so loathed, but each time he would do home and his children would run to him. They would hug him. They would kiss him. They reminded him of how much they loved him, and he would cry to realise how much he loved them, and suddenly those fears became completely unfounded . . . until the next time they arose. Lance sighed.

Rax was with them today, corralling the kids and playing the role of ‘monster’ that they ran from, and – as much as he hated the idea of his Galra brother playing that role – the kids adored it and constantly play-fought with him. It burned out their energy, which would hopefully knock them out later and give him time to rest. Rax was growing up so quickly, with such charm and wit that he almost reminded Lance of Shiro, and again the guilt came.

“What’re you thinking about?” Katie asked.

Lance turned to see Katie on the porch-swing. The young woman looked beautiful, even as she ran her hands over her swollen stomach, and a part of his stomach fell in dread at the idea of one more child, as that was just one more responsibility and one more way to screw up. It made his smile falter, as memories of their abuse came to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to fight away the tears, but he knew how innocent the children were and couldn’t imagine ever hurting them, and yet . . . somehow . . . Shiro could hurt them.

He wondered what they did to deserve that pain. He wondered how someone so nice that he could fool the Paladins, fool the Garrison, fool even social services, could turn out to be the monster that all three of them feared, and how did a man go from being a person into a creature of nightmares? Lance bit his lip and thought to the suitcases in his closet, as his heart raced and a cold sweat broke over his body. He loved them, but that was why he had to leave.

“Do you still hear from Keith?” Lance asked.

“Huh?” Katie blinked in confusion. “Yeah, sure. The last I heard was he’s expecting a child with Thace; they used artificial insemination, I think, because Keith said he still can’t bring himself to go all the way, but Thace is about five months in and healthy as ever. You know a Galra pregnancy only lasts six months? They’re pretty psyched now.”

“Yeah, but . . . he’s Shiro’s brother, right? Doesn’t he ever get afraid? Don’t you? The happier I get, the more I get terrified I’ll fuck up somehow. If I ever hurt you or the kids, I think I’d kill myself . . . I hurt Keith, didn’t I? What if I hurt you, too?”

“You’re better than Shiro, Lance. You won’t hurt us.”

“Yeah, you’re right . . . I won’t hurt you.”

Lance swallowed hard and looked back to the children. Rax in his teens was so handsome and so athletic, while Colleen was always trying to prove herself to be the best, always so studious and with looks just like her father, and Samuel . . . so small, so sensitive . . . always secretly Lance’s favourite. He looked to them and saw three children that needed protection. Rax would go home tonight, after hugging them goodnight, while he would tuck his children into bed, and then he would need to make a decision. He would have to do what was right.

“Katie, whatever happens, know that I love you.”

Katie said nothing, but just nodded with a furrowed brow. He wondered if she knew about the packed bags, hidden away and ready to be used, or if she found the letters written to her and each of the children. Lance wondered how she could be so happy, when he chastised himself every day for having a happiness that wasn’t earned or deserved. He had raped Keith. He saw himself in films recorded without his consent. He knew that one day this would all be taken away from him, because it was never really his . . . he still waited to be punished.

The sun grew low on the horizon, while he committed his family to memory, and he hated himself for even considering abandoning them, but he hated himself more for staying and knowing every day risked bringing them pain. He clenched his hands into fists. It cut crescent-shaped red moons into the palms of his hand, as he gnawed at his lip and swallowed hard, but he knew that what he was doing was right. He had to leave them.

“I don’t deserve you,” whispered Lance.

Katie said nothing.

 

 

 


End file.
